Collective Difference: The Pan-American Association of Composers
Collective Difference: The Pan-American Association of Composers
Collective Difference: The Pan-American Association of Composers
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FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY<br />
COLLEGE OF MUSIC<br />
COLLECTIVE DIFFERENCE: THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF<br />
COMPOSERS AND PAN-AMERICAN IDEOLOGY IN MUSIC, 1925-1945<br />
By<br />
STEPHANIE N. STALLINGS<br />
A Dissertation submitted to the<br />
College <strong>of</strong> Music<br />
in partial fulfillment <strong>of</strong> the<br />
requirements for the degree <strong>of</strong><br />
Doctor <strong>of</strong> Philosophy<br />
Degree Awarded:<br />
Summer Semester, 2009<br />
Copyright © 2009<br />
Stephanie N. Stallings<br />
All Rights Reserved
<strong>The</strong> members <strong>of</strong> the Committee approve the Dissertation <strong>of</strong> Stephanie N. Stallings<br />
defended on April 20, 2009.<br />
ii<br />
______________________________<br />
Denise Von Glahn<br />
Pr<strong>of</strong>essor Directing Dissertation<br />
______________________________<br />
Evan Jones<br />
Outside Committee Member<br />
______________________________<br />
Charles Brewer<br />
Committee Member<br />
______________________________<br />
Douglass Seaton<br />
Committee Member<br />
<strong>The</strong> Graduate School has verified and approved the above named committee members.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS<br />
I would like to express my warmest thanks to my dissertation advisor, Denise Von<br />
Glahn. Without her excellent guidance, steadfast moral support, thoughtfulness, and<br />
creativity, this dissertation never would have come to fruition. I am also grateful to the<br />
rest <strong>of</strong> my dissertation committee, Charles Brewer, Evan Jones, and Douglass Seaton, for<br />
their wisdom. Similarly, each member <strong>of</strong> the Musicology faculty at Florida State<br />
University has provided me with a different model for scholarly excellence in “capital M<br />
Musicology.” <strong>The</strong> FSU Society for Musicology has been a wonderful support system<br />
throughout my tenure at Florida State. Thank you to all <strong>of</strong> my colleagues who serve on its<br />
committees. This dissertation was completed with financial support from the Florida<br />
State University College <strong>of</strong> Music, the Curtis Mayes Foundation, the Presser Foundation,<br />
and Malcolm Brown, who generously donated funding for FSU’s annual Musicology<br />
student paper award.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re are also many individuals who contributed to this project. I would like to<br />
thank George Boziwick, Chief <strong>of</strong> the Music Division at <strong>The</strong> New York Public Library for<br />
the Performing Arts, for his help navigating the Cowell Papers. Robin Rausch and Karen<br />
Moses, Music Specialists at the Library <strong>of</strong> Congress, were also cooperative and kind.<br />
Electra Slonimsky Yourke generously allowed me to photocopy from her father’s<br />
collection at the Library <strong>of</strong> Congress. Richard Teitelbaum <strong>of</strong> the David and Sylvia<br />
Teitelbaum Fund allowed me to reproduce materials from the Cowell Collection at the<br />
NYPL. <strong>The</strong> staff <strong>of</strong> the Fleisher Collection <strong>of</strong> Orchestral Music at the Free Library <strong>of</strong><br />
Philadelphia has provided me with much assistance, especially Curator Kile Smith,<br />
Librarian Stuart Serio, and Archival Preservationist Gary Galván. Robert Falvo, Assistant<br />
Pr<strong>of</strong>essor <strong>of</strong> percussion at Appalachian State University, shared his ensemble’s excellent<br />
recording <strong>of</strong> José Ardévol’s Estudio. Carmen Hendershott, Reference Librarian at the<br />
New School, found information for me in the New School Catalogs. I can only imagine<br />
how much time Velma Smith and Sara Nodine spent processing my interlibrary loans.<br />
iii
Amy Dankowski, an archivist at the Cleveland Orchestra, sent me programs. I would also<br />
like to express my gratitude to other <strong>American</strong> music scholars whose work has been<br />
helpful to me in the process <strong>of</strong> writing this dissertation: Jacqueline Avila, (for sharing a<br />
rare recording <strong>of</strong> Silvestre Revueltas’ music), Gary Galván, Christina Taylor Gibson,<br />
Eduardo Herrera, Carol Hess, Ana Alonso-Minutti, Alejandro Madrid, Carol Oja, Anna<br />
Ochs, Robert Parker, Deane Root, Leonora Saavedra, and Deborah Schwartz-Kates.<br />
Tatiana Flores deserves special thanks for graciously hosting me in New York, for<br />
showing me a great time in Harlem the night Barack Obama was elected, and for the<br />
invaluable sources I found on her bookshelves. <strong>The</strong> friendship and support <strong>of</strong> Laura<br />
Moore Pruett, Sean Parr, John Spilker, Janine Tiffe, and Emily Swift Gertsch have been<br />
sources <strong>of</strong> strength throughout my career at FSU. My lunch meetings with John, who is<br />
completing a dissertation that reassesses Henry Cowell’s contributions to dissonant<br />
counterpoint, gave me fresh perspectives on Cowell’s work and allowed me to blow <strong>of</strong>f<br />
steam. Walks with Alegra Toccata always cleared my mind and cheered me up.<br />
My deepest thanks go to my parents, Everett and Marian Stallings, who continue<br />
to provide not only constant support for my every endeavor but love and encouragement<br />
that keep me afloat. Sean, Celeste, Carson and Riley Stallings never fail to make me<br />
laugh. León García lovingly persuades me that I deserve to succeed. It is largely due to<br />
his daily encouragement that this project came to completion.<br />
iv
TABLE OF CONTENTS<br />
List <strong>of</strong> Figures ..........................................................................................................vii<br />
List <strong>of</strong> Musical Examples ............................................................................................ix<br />
Abstract ......................................................................................................................xii<br />
INTRODUCTION: THE PAN-AMERICAN ERA (1925-45) .........................................1<br />
1. PAN-AMERICANISM IN 1930s PERCUSSION ENSEMBLE MUSIC ...................11<br />
Ultramodernism, Neo-primitivism, and New Uses <strong>of</strong> Percussion in Europe .......14<br />
Amerindian <strong>The</strong>mes in <strong>American</strong> Music .............................................................16<br />
Percussion Music in the Americas .......................................................................19<br />
William Russell, Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms (1935)...........................22<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Rítmicas Nos. 5 and 6 (1930) ...................................................26<br />
Edgard Varèse, Ionisation (1929-31) ...................................................................31<br />
Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo (1934) .........................................................41<br />
William Russell, Fugue for Eight Percussion Instruments (1931) ......................45<br />
José Ardévol, Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga (1933) .................................50<br />
2. ORGANIZING THE HEMISPHERE: THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF<br />
COMPOSERS ..................................................................................................................61<br />
Early Organizing Efforts and the First Two Concerts, 1928-30 ..........................65<br />
<strong>The</strong> Concerts in New York and Cuba, 1931-34 ...................................................80<br />
3. COLLECTIVE DIFFERENCE: THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION ABROAD<br />
............................................................................................................................................93<br />
Paris, 6 and 11 June 1931 ....................................................................................95<br />
Paris, 21 and 25 February 1932 .........................................................................108<br />
Berlin, 5 and 10 March 1932 .............................................................................113<br />
Other European Concerts 1931-32<br />
Varèse’s Return to New York and the Last Two Concerts, 1934 ......................126<br />
4. ESTA BOCA ES LA MIA: JAZZ, BLUES, AND POPULAR FRONT PAN-<br />
AMERICANISM.............................................................................................................133<br />
Blues and Son: A <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Literary and Musical Exchange ....................136<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito manué” (1930).....................................141<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Motivos de son, “Sigue” (1931) .................................145<br />
Mexico Sings the Blues .....................................................................................150<br />
v
Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra” (1938) ...............151<br />
Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues” (1942) ....................................155<br />
EPILOGUE: FROM PAN-AMERICAN TO INTER-AMERICAN...............................167<br />
APPENDIX A. CONCERTS OF THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF<br />
COMPOSERS ................................................................................................................171<br />
APPENDIX B. LIST OF EXTANT CONCERT PROGRAMS AND REVIEWS OF THE<br />
PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF COMPOSERS ..............................................181<br />
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...........................................................................................................186<br />
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .........................................................................................199<br />
vi
LIST OF FIGURES<br />
FIGURE I.1. <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Exposition Official Seal by artist Raphael Beck....................7<br />
FIGURE 1.1. Some Percussion Ensemble works written between 1929 and 1942...........12<br />
FIGURE 1.2. Diagram <strong>of</strong> a teponaztli. Daniel Castaneda and Vicente T. Mendoza,<br />
Instrumental precortesiano (Mexico City: Museo Nacional de Arqueologia, Historia y<br />
Etnografia, 1933; reprint Mexico City: UNAM, 1991), unnumbered insert.....................20<br />
FIGURE 1.3. Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo. Diagram <strong>of</strong> each ostinato..................44<br />
FIGURE 1.4. William Russell, Fugue. Form diagram.....................................................49<br />
FIGURE 1.5. Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga, instrument groups (voices) in the<br />
fugue and the measures in which they appear...................................................................55<br />
FIGURE 1.6. Jose Ardevol, Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga. Form diagram............56<br />
FIGURE 2.1. Concert program, Carnegie Chamber Hall, April 21, 1930........................78<br />
FIGURE 2.2. Program cover for Henry Cowell’s solo concerts in Havana, December 23,<br />
and 26, 1930. Cowell Papers, NYPL.................................................................................79<br />
FIGURE 2.3. Concert program, Slonimsky’s performances with the Havana<br />
Philharmonic, March 18 and 21, 1931. Cowell Papers, NYPL.........................................80<br />
FIGURE 2.4. Concert program, New School Auditorium, November 4, 1932. Cowell<br />
Papers, NYPL....................................................................................................................84<br />
FIGURE 2.5. Concert Program <strong>of</strong> Alejandro García Caturla’s Orquesta de Conciertos de<br />
Caibarién, April 15, 1933...................................................................................................87<br />
FIGURE 2.6. Alejandro García Caturla, “Fanfarria para despertar espiritus apolillados.”<br />
<strong>The</strong> Fleisher Collection, Free Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia......................................................89<br />
FIGURE 3.1. Concert program. Paris, February 21, 1932 (Cowell Papers, New York<br />
Public Library for the Performing Arts)..........................................................................110<br />
FIGURE 3.2. Concert program. Madrid, November 23, 1931 (Cowell Papers).............120<br />
vii
FIGURE 3.3. Concert program. Bauhaus, Dessau, December 1, 3, and 12, 1931 (Cowell<br />
Papers)..............................................................................................................................121<br />
FIGURE 3.4. Concert program. Vienna, February 21, 1932 (Cowell Papers)................123<br />
FIGURE 3.5. Concert program. Budapest, April 2, 1932. (Fleisher Collection, Free<br />
Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia)...................................................................................................126<br />
FIGURE 3.6. Concert program. Hamburg, December 8, 1932 (Cowell Papers)............127<br />
FIGURE 3.7. PAAC circular from late 1932 ..................................................................129<br />
FIGURE 3.8. Concert program. New York City, April 22, 1934 (Cowell Papers).........131<br />
FIGURE E.1. Covers from the 1938 and 1941 Boletín Latino-<strong>American</strong>o de Música...162<br />
viii
LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES<br />
EXAMPLE 1.1. William Russell, Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms, Opening <strong>of</strong> No.<br />
1 “Havanera,” mm. 1-15....................................................................................................25<br />
EXAMPLE 1.2a. <strong>The</strong> “2-side” <strong>of</strong> a son clave in 4/4 ........................................................26<br />
EXAMPLE 1.2b. <strong>The</strong> “3-side” <strong>of</strong> a son clave in 4/4 ........................................................26<br />
EXAMPLE 1.3. William Russell, Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms No. 2,<br />
“Rhumba,” mm. 1-10. .......................................................................................................26<br />
EXAMPLE 1.4. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 14-21, top system only...............29<br />
EXAMPLE 1.5. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, first page.............................................30<br />
EXAMPLE 1.6. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 35-47. Layered entrances <strong>of</strong> the 3-<br />
2 son clave. ........................................................................................................................30<br />
EXAMPLE 1.7. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, mm. 9-12 Snare drum in “Parade drum<br />
passage” ............................................................................................................................37<br />
EXAMPLE 1.8a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation m. 26 (long, short, short) ...........................38<br />
EXAMPLE 1.8b. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, mm. 28-29 (short, short, long) .................38<br />
EXAMPLE 1.8c. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation mm. 34-37 Güiro “solo” and rhythmic<br />
elaboration. ........................................................................................................................38<br />
EXAMPLE 1.9a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, Lion’s (leopard’s?) roar, (player 5, Tambour<br />
á corde), mm 45-47. ..........................................................................................................40<br />
EXAMPLE 1.9b. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 14-18, Bongo glissando (first<br />
staff <strong>of</strong> second system). .....................................................................................................40<br />
EXAMPLE 1.10. Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo, mm. 14-17. Accents creating<br />
Brazilian clave...................................................................................................................45<br />
EXAMPLE 1.11. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 1-8. Subject...........................................48<br />
ix
EXAMPLE 1.12. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 9-16. Answer in xylophone and<br />
countersubject in snare drum with accented rhythm..........................................................49<br />
EXAMPLE 1.13a. José Ardévol, Estudio, mm. 1-6. ........................................................54<br />
EXAMPLE 1.13b. José Ardévol, Estudio, m. 5, second system. Accelerated time values<br />
as in Russell’s Fugue (shown in Example 1.11 above). ...................................................54<br />
EXAMPLE 1.14a. José Ardévol, Estudio. Actual notation <strong>of</strong> rhythmic subject, mm. 1-6.<br />
............................................................................................................................................57<br />
EXAMPLE 1.14b. José Ardévol, Estudio. Rhythmic subject in 4/4 (my rewrite) ...........57<br />
EXAMPLE 1.15. José Ardévol. Estudio, mm. 4-5. Cinquillo. .........................................57<br />
EXAMPLE 1.16a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, mm. 8-12. ...............................................58<br />
EXAMPLE 1.16b. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 1-8. .....................................................58<br />
EXAMPLE 1.16c. José Ardévol, Estudio . . . fuga, mm. 1-6. ..........................................58<br />
EXAMPLE 3.1. Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life, mm. 1-3. ................................................98<br />
EXAMPLE 3.2. Carlos Chávez, Energía, mm. 35-36. (Melville, NY: Belwin Mills,<br />
1968), 12. ........................................................................................................................102<br />
EXAMPLE 3.3. Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé: An Afro-Cuban Movement, mm. 83-<br />
87 (Paris: Senart, 1930), 9. ..............................................................................................104<br />
EXAMPLE 3.4. Wallingford Riegger, Three Canons for Woodwinds, mm. 21-25. (San<br />
Francisco, CA: New Music, 1932), 4. ............................................................................106<br />
EXAMPLE 3.5. Henry Cowell, Two Appositions, first movement, mm. 1-7. ...............111<br />
EXAMPLE 4.1a. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 21-24. ......................145<br />
EXAMPLE 4.1b. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 59-62. ......................145<br />
EXAMPLE 4.1c. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 65-68........................145<br />
EXAMPLE 4.2. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 1-8..............................146<br />
EXAMPLE 4.3. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue” (Motivos de son), mm. 1-16........................148<br />
EXAMPLE 4.4. Amadeo Roldán, “Negro Bembón” (Motivos de son), mm. 1-6...........148<br />
x
EXAMPLE 4.5. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 17-21. ................................................149<br />
EXAMPLE 4.6. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 4-13. ..................................................150<br />
EXAMPLE 4.7a. Rhythm for the tresillo........................................................................150<br />
EXAMPLE 4.7b. Rhythm for the cinquillo ....................................................................150<br />
EXAMPLE 4.7c. Rhythm for the lundu......................................................................... 150<br />
EXAMPLE 4.8. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 1-6. Tresillo and its elaborations in the<br />
accompaniment. ..............................................................................................................151<br />
EXAMPLE 4.9. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 28-31. “Drumming” rhythms.............151<br />
EXAMPLE 4.10. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 12-13.<br />
Inverted “stride” based on gesture similar to James P. Johnson’s in “I’m Gonna Sit Right<br />
Down and Write Myself a Letter,” 1930. .......................................................................155<br />
EXAMPLE 4.11. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 16-17.<br />
“Plodding” chords, as in Leroy Carr’s “How Long, How Long Blues,” 1928................156<br />
EXAMPLE 4.12. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 16-17.<br />
Improvisatory vocal line with reciting tone (C) and surrounding thirds.........................156<br />
EXAMPLE 4.13. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” m. 1. Piano’s<br />
sighing gesture. ...............................................................................................................156<br />
EXAMPLE 4.14. Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues,” mm. 18-27. ........................165<br />
EXAMPLE 4.15. Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues,” mm. 43-48..........................166<br />
xi
ABSTRACT<br />
This dissertation probes the relationship between <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism and musical<br />
production in its cultural and historic context through close analysis <strong>of</strong> the music, concert<br />
programming, and publications <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>. <strong>The</strong><br />
PAAC presented concerts <strong>of</strong> new music from the Americas between 1928 and 1934 in<br />
New York City, Havana, and Europe. Purposeful diversity, or “collective difference,”<br />
was the PAAC’s strategy for approaching European audiences by collaborative force.<br />
<strong>The</strong> principle <strong>of</strong> collective difference describes both the stylistic diversity present on<br />
PAAC concerts and also the ultimate goal <strong>of</strong> that diversity, which was to reverse the flow<br />
<strong>of</strong> musical culture from west to east. Through social and cultural research, style analysis,<br />
and reception history, I demonstrate collective difference in the combinations <strong>of</strong><br />
primitivist, nationalist, modernist, and neo-classical tendencies present in the PAAC<br />
repertory. In doing so, I reevaluate accepted nationalist discourses in the Americas from a<br />
transnational perspective and demonstrate how <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical creation arose<br />
organically from interactions between Mexican, Cuban, and U.S. composers.<br />
In the final chapter I explain literary and musical connections between African<br />
<strong>American</strong>s and Latin <strong>American</strong>s during the late 1930s. Here I examine four Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> art songs that participated in the international movement <strong>of</strong> negritude, or<br />
blackness, and incorporated elements <strong>of</strong> jazz and blues. This chapter provides a necessary<br />
counterpoint to the PAAC’s activities by emphasizing connections between African<br />
<strong>American</strong> and Latin <strong>American</strong> cultures, which circumvented the Anglo-<strong>American</strong><br />
interpretation <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism that the PAAC espoused.<br />
xii
INTRODUCTION<br />
Friendly cultural and musical relations flourished between the United States and<br />
much <strong>of</strong> Latin America between 1925 and 1945, a period in which the <strong>American</strong><br />
hemisphere aligned to geopolitically distinguish itself from Europe. This project<br />
investigates <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical activity during this period, focusing on musical<br />
exchange between U.S. and Latin <strong>American</strong> composers and musicians. Previous research<br />
has acknowledged the existence <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism in music at this time, but has not<br />
examined its raison d’être. To make sense <strong>of</strong> how the postcolonial nations <strong>of</strong> the western<br />
hemisphere created their own musical identities, musicologists have <strong>of</strong>ten focused<br />
sharply on independent nationalist projects in the region, for example, the development<br />
by certain U.S. composers <strong>of</strong> a distinctly “<strong>American</strong>” 1 sound or the musical wing <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Mexican Aztec Renaissance. In addition to national projects, however, a number <strong>of</strong><br />
seminal composers in the Americas were also interested in creating music that<br />
transcended national boundaries in order to define a multifaceted music <strong>of</strong> the western<br />
hemisphere.<br />
This dissertation probes the relationship between <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism and musical<br />
production in its cultural and historic context through close analysis <strong>of</strong> the music, concert<br />
programming, and publications <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>. I argue<br />
that these composers expressed a desire for a multivalent but unified intercontinental<br />
musical aesthetic. <strong>The</strong>y transplanted and remodeled traits that marked French and Eastern<br />
European modernism, such as primitivism, the use <strong>of</strong> musical folk material, and a<br />
growing interest in novel musical resources. In both the United States and Latin America,<br />
the proliferation <strong>of</strong> these traits opened possibilities for expressing local flavor with a<br />
newly modernist conception <strong>of</strong> its value.<br />
1 Throughout the dissertation, I use the term “<strong>American</strong>” in its broader sense to refer to the entire <strong>American</strong><br />
hemisphere. In the above context, however, I mean “U.S. <strong>American</strong>.”<br />
1
This project grew out <strong>of</strong> my observations about certain stylistic similarities<br />
between Carlos Chávez’s Sinfonía India (1935-6) and Aaron Copland’s Billy the Kid<br />
(1938). Both composers responded to modern life and urbanization by attempting to<br />
revive, recreate, or imagine dying or mythic cultures by using folk melodies. <strong>The</strong><br />
orchestration and development <strong>of</strong> the melodies in both pieces sound strikingly similar,<br />
and many musicologists have used both composers’ respective influence from French and<br />
Eastern European modernism to explain the correspondences in their musical styles. In<br />
truth, if Chávez or Copland absorbed certain French or Russian models, it was in both<br />
cases a conscious action to free their art from a widely acknowledged Teutonic musical<br />
hegemony. Both composers, as well as many others on the <strong>American</strong> continent, saw the<br />
1920s and 1930s as an opportunity to break free from European, particularly German,<br />
leadership. Thus, they shared conceptions <strong>of</strong> their artistic worth with some <strong>of</strong> their<br />
French and Eastern European counterparts, and also certain values: modern objectivity,<br />
conciseness, and fresh authenticity. In an essay about Chávez, Copland called for artistic<br />
autonomy shared among non-hegemonic musical cultures <strong>of</strong> the Western world and<br />
perhaps revealed a hint <strong>of</strong> envy: “We in the United States who have long desired musical<br />
autonomy can best appreciate the full measure <strong>of</strong> [Chávez’s] achievement. We cannot . . .<br />
borrow from a rich melodic source, or lose ourselves in an ancient civilization, but we<br />
can be stimulated and instructed by his example. His work presents itself as one <strong>of</strong> the<br />
first signs <strong>of</strong> a new world with its own new music.” 2 With these words Copland<br />
acknowledged a burgeoning musical community that embraced both North and South.<br />
Only through their collective difference could composers <strong>of</strong> the Americas distance<br />
themselves from European art.<br />
At the heart <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concert activity was the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong><br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> (PAAC). This organization has not yet received the scholarly attention it<br />
deserves. Truly international in both spirit and practice, it included composers from<br />
Cuba, Mexico, and the United States. By conscientiously presenting concerts <strong>of</strong> new<br />
music from the Americas between 1928 and 1934 the PAAC fulfilled its stated purpose,<br />
which was to “promote wider mutual appreciation <strong>of</strong> the music <strong>of</strong> the different republics<br />
2 Aaron Copland, “Chávez, Mexican Composer,” In <strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> on <strong>American</strong> Music edited by<br />
Henry Cowell (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1933; reprint New York: F. Ungar, 1962) 323.<br />
2
<strong>of</strong> America, and [to] stimulate composers to make still greater effort toward creating a<br />
distinctive music <strong>of</strong> the Western Hemisphere.” In a broad sense, I examine why, in light<br />
<strong>of</strong> the aggressive military and economic interventionist policies <strong>of</strong> the United States<br />
before and after this brief period, individuals behind cultural forces in the Western<br />
hemisphere found it in their best interest to create alliances. <strong>The</strong> cultivation <strong>of</strong> empathy<br />
across cultural, political and ideological boundaries represented by the PAAC and similar<br />
organizations was at the time an urgent necessity that also pr<strong>of</strong>oundly resonates in the<br />
current political climate <strong>of</strong> increasingly divisive factions and blurring borders. Through<br />
this project I seek to illuminate the various reasons the PAAC considered inter-<strong>American</strong><br />
musical collaboration important and expedient and how it sought to achieve such a goal.<br />
Purposeful diversity, or “collective difference,” was a strategy for approaching European<br />
audiences by collaborative force. As used in the context <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, the principle <strong>of</strong><br />
collective difference describes both the stylistic diversity present on PAAC concerts and<br />
also the ultimate goal <strong>of</strong> that diversity, which was to reverse the flow <strong>of</strong> musical culture<br />
from west to east.<br />
<strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Project, 1826-1945<br />
<strong>The</strong> PAAC carried in its name a political buzzword <strong>of</strong> the day, “<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>,”<br />
aligning itself with a political ideology. James Monroe proclaimed on December 2, 1823<br />
that the United States would not tolerate European interference in the affairs <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
republics, viewing such action as hostile. <strong>The</strong>odore Roosevelt created an amendment in<br />
1904 that asserted the right <strong>of</strong> the U.S. to intervene to stabilize the economic affairs <strong>of</strong><br />
smaller nations that were unable to pay their international debt. <strong>The</strong> term “<strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong>” both evokes solidarity and establishes difference between the <strong>American</strong><br />
republics. Its first recorded use dates to 1826, when the celebrated South <strong>American</strong><br />
revolutionary and statesman Simón Bolívar (1783-1830) called the first <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
Conference to be held in <strong>Pan</strong>ama. 3 <strong>The</strong> U.S. government later appropriated the term<br />
“<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>” in the Roosevelt Corollary to the Monroe Doctrine in 1904. Several U.S.<br />
3 Though the United States did not attend this meeting, it hosted and attended later <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
Conferences, the first one being held in Washington, D.C. in 1889. <strong>The</strong> conferences eventually led to the<br />
formation <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> Union and, more recently, the Organization <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> States (OAS).<br />
3
presidents used the corollary to justify the invasion <strong>of</strong> Cuba (1906-10), Nicaragua (1909-<br />
11, 1912-25, and 1926-33), Haiti (1915-34) and the Dominican Republic (1916-24). In<br />
1928 Calvin Coolidge’s undersecretary <strong>of</strong> state J. Reuben Clark reversed the Roosevelt<br />
Corollary in the Clark Memorandum, stating that the Monroe Doctrine did not entitle the<br />
United States to intervene in Latin <strong>American</strong> affairs unless a European power directly<br />
threatened the Americas. 4 <strong>The</strong> Clark Memorandum thus paved the way for later New<br />
Deal policies.<br />
In the decade that followed, a new political landscape was wrought in the United<br />
States as a result <strong>of</strong> the widespread economic depression. <strong>The</strong> U.S. economy was<br />
flattened, making it more closely aligned with those <strong>of</strong> many Latin <strong>American</strong> countries.<br />
Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s foreign policy adapted to this change in economic<br />
topography. In striking contrast to <strong>The</strong>odore Roosevelt’s <strong>American</strong> Exceptionalism were<br />
notions about Good Neighborliness from F.D.R.’s administration. <strong>The</strong>se ideas were<br />
spurred in part by a rising tide <strong>of</strong> fascism in Western Europe, a situation that dramatically<br />
increased Latin America’s importance as a trading partner.<br />
Politicians and intellectuals in Latin America during the period in question <strong>of</strong>ten<br />
referred to two opposing political ideologies: <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism and <strong>Pan</strong>-Latinism. 5 <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> sentiment had run high in Mexico, Central and South America in the early days<br />
<strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> independence, as some authors advocated emulation <strong>of</strong> U.S.<br />
democracy. Domingo F. Sarmiento (1811-1888), president <strong>of</strong> Argentina and an<br />
aggressive social reformer, wrote in his Vida de Abrán Lincoln (1865), “<strong>The</strong> political<br />
school for South America is in the United States, as the sharer <strong>of</strong> English liberties, as the<br />
creator <strong>of</strong> a government absolutely free and strong, which in peace has built up the most<br />
prosperous nation <strong>of</strong> the earth and in war has displayed resources, has gathered armies . .<br />
. that open a new page in the history <strong>of</strong> modern war.” 6 Simón Bolívar, <strong>of</strong>ten known for<br />
his committed political opposition to the U.S., nevertheless wrote, “<strong>The</strong> example <strong>of</strong> the<br />
4 <strong>The</strong> PAAC was founded in the same year.<br />
5 Proponents <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-Latinism foresaw the imperialist leanings <strong>of</strong> the U.S. government and advocated a<br />
unification <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> republics to maintain a balance <strong>of</strong> power in the region.<br />
6 As quoted in Samuel Guy Inman, Problems in <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong>ism (London: George Allen & Unwin,<br />
1926): 324.<br />
4
United States, because <strong>of</strong> its wonderful prosperity, was too prominent not to be emulated.<br />
Who can resist the victorious attraction <strong>of</strong> a full and absolute enjoyment <strong>of</strong> sovereignty,<br />
independence and liberty?” 7<br />
Though many in Latin America were clearly impressed with the United States<br />
asserting its power, negative feeling between the U.S. and its Spanish- and Portuguese-<br />
speaking neighbors also intensified in the second half <strong>of</strong> the nineteenth century,<br />
beginning with the U.S.-Mexican War (1846-48). As the first war to be fought by the<br />
U.S. on foreign soil, this was also the first major political event that drew Latin America<br />
into the national consciousness <strong>of</strong> the United States. Technological innovations made<br />
print media production easier and cheaper, and newspapers like the New York Sun<br />
dropped their prices to one cent in 1833. Suddenly, their publications were available to<br />
everyone. <strong>The</strong> U.S.-Mexican War was thus the first war to receive mass media coverage.<br />
For many U.S. <strong>American</strong>s the conflict became a window to customs and attitudes largely<br />
alien to their own, and they believed their country would never be the same. <strong>The</strong>y were<br />
correct; this war more than any other set the United States on its trajectory to prosperity<br />
and established it as a major power in the western hemisphere. Control over the<br />
California gold mines, as well as over water resources and, therefore, agricultural<br />
potential in the west, is responsible for much <strong>of</strong> the subsequent wealth <strong>of</strong> the United<br />
States. <strong>The</strong> redistribution <strong>of</strong> land between Mexico and the U.S. also opened trade routes<br />
to Asia and gained the U.S. Santa Fe, which had in the previous century become a major<br />
trade center. Although many U.S. citizens have forgotten the details and the lasting<br />
consequences <strong>of</strong> this war, their Mexican neighbors have not.<br />
While the U.S.-Mexican War had won the United States half a million square<br />
miles <strong>of</strong> new territory, the Spanish-<strong>American</strong> War half a century later had an even larger<br />
impact on the United States’s awareness <strong>of</strong> its Latin <strong>American</strong> neighbors, and vice versa.<br />
<strong>The</strong> circumstances surrounding the beginning <strong>of</strong> the conflict are still debated. <strong>The</strong><br />
mysterious sinking <strong>of</strong> the USS Maine in February 1898 led William Randolph Hearst and<br />
other journalists immediately to conclude that Spanish <strong>of</strong>ficials in Cuba were to blame,<br />
though analysis <strong>of</strong> evidence decades later found that assumption unverifiable. <strong>The</strong><br />
resulting furor in the months following the explosion (as exemplified by the cry<br />
7 Ibid, 324.<br />
5
Remember the Maine, To Hell with Spain!) pressured President McKinley to ask<br />
Congress on April 11 to send <strong>American</strong> forces to Cuba to demand Spanish withdrawal. A<br />
peace treaty signed in August 1898 gave the United States control <strong>of</strong> the former Spanish<br />
colonies <strong>of</strong> Puerto Rico, the Philippines, and Guam. Called a “splendid little war” by<br />
Secretary <strong>of</strong> State John Hay, the Spanish-<strong>American</strong> conflict trumpeted America’s entry<br />
into world affairs and <strong>of</strong>ficially established the United States as an imperialist nation. Not<br />
surprisingly, the <strong>Pan</strong>-Latin school <strong>of</strong> thought was strengthened by the U.S. war with<br />
Spain in the decade that followed, and several prominent writers became very active in<br />
promoting opposition to the United States. 8<br />
From a U.S. perspective, however, the Spanish-<strong>American</strong> War has not yet been<br />
fully considered as a site <strong>of</strong> cultural exchange with regard to the resulting era <strong>of</strong> political<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism. After demonstrating its new military might in 1898, the United States<br />
proudly displayed its intentions to establish widespread inter-<strong>American</strong> trade in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> Exposition held in Buffalo, New York, from May 1 through November 2,<br />
1901. <strong>The</strong> <strong>of</strong>ficial logo for the exposition, designed by artist Raphael Beck (1848-1957)<br />
and used on stationery and commemorative coins, shows two women whose respective<br />
garments overlay both North and South America. North America’s representative is<br />
blonde and fair-skinned; she extends her hand down to Ms. South America, who is<br />
noticeably darker in complexion. In some renderings, as in Figure I.1 below, a caption<br />
reads, “To Unite the Americas in Bonds <strong>of</strong> Prosperity and Peace.”<br />
Though familiarity bred through trade agreements may have provided one catalyst<br />
for <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> activities, anxiety about the future <strong>of</strong> U.S. culture began to reinforce<br />
the country’s interest in Latin America. By 1930 many U.S. citizens began to view<br />
Western ideals <strong>of</strong> progress as chimerical. <strong>The</strong>y also witnessed their once vast western<br />
frontier rapidly being plowed over by mechanized agricultural implements. <strong>The</strong> imminent<br />
loss <strong>of</strong> Nature’s/God’s seemingly limitless bounty that had gratified generations <strong>of</strong> U.S.<br />
<strong>American</strong>s in response to European urbanity caused many in the Anglo-<strong>American</strong><br />
cultural elite to revalue native and Hispanic cultures and religions as alternatives to a<br />
8 <strong>The</strong>se include Manuel Ugarte, Rufino Blanco-Fombona, José Enrique Rodó, and José Martí, among<br />
others. <strong>Pan</strong>-Latin opposition to the U.S. was summarized in a novel that enjoyed enormous success in Latin<br />
America, Rodó’s Ariel (1900).<br />
6
Figure I.1. <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Exposition <strong>of</strong>ficial seal by artist Raphael Beck.<br />
modernity that was increasingly driven by materialism. Hundreds <strong>of</strong> artists and<br />
intellectuals began pouring into the desert southwest <strong>of</strong> the United States. Taos, New<br />
Mexico, and especially the home there <strong>of</strong> Mabel Dodge Luhan, became a favorite<br />
destination for many city-worn artists. D. H. Lawrence, Georgia O’Keefe, Ansel Adams,<br />
Martha Graham, Carl Jung, and Willa Cather, among many others, stayed at Luhan’s<br />
estate.<br />
Many <strong>of</strong> the novels, paintings and photographs created there show Anglo-<br />
<strong>American</strong>s’ s<strong>of</strong>tening attitudes toward the Spanish-speaking and Native <strong>American</strong><br />
inhabitants <strong>of</strong> the southwest. Willa Cather’s Pulitzer Prize-winning historical novel Death<br />
Comes for the Archbishop (1927), which presents a Catholic Bishop and priest attempting<br />
to establish a diocese in New Mexican territory, portrays Hopi, Navajo, and Mexicans<br />
sympathetically. In certain moments Cather’s French clergymen seem to realize the<br />
futility <strong>of</strong> imposing an alien religion on millennia-old belief systems, as evident in the<br />
Bishop’s reaction to his Indian guide: “<strong>The</strong> Bishop seldom questioned Jacinto about his<br />
thoughts or beliefs. He didn’t think it polite, and he believed it to be useless. <strong>The</strong>re was<br />
no way in which he could transfer his own memories <strong>of</strong> European civilization into the<br />
Indian mind, and he was quite willing to believe that behind Jacinto there was a long<br />
tradition, a story <strong>of</strong> experience, which no language could translate to him.” 9<br />
9 Willa Cather, Death Comes for the Archbishop. (New York: Vintage Books, 1927. Reprint: Vintage<br />
Classics Edition, 1990): 91.<br />
7
Several U.S.-based composers’ organizations preceded and set the groundwork<br />
for the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong>. <strong>The</strong> first association dedicated to presenting <strong>American</strong><br />
works was the <strong>American</strong> Music Guild (1921-24). Its founders were Marion Bauer,<br />
Frederick Jacobi, Emerson Whithorne, Louis Gruenberg, and Albert Stoessel. While<br />
among the first <strong>American</strong>s to be labeled modernist, their lush textures and French<br />
impressionist tonal style represented a conservative brand <strong>of</strong> modernism. Another<br />
organization active during those years was Pro Musica, founded in 1920 by E. Robert<br />
Schmitz. Known as the Franco-<strong>American</strong> Music Society until 1923, its scope was more<br />
international, and its purpose was to promote musical exchange between France and the<br />
United States. Edgard Varèse and Carlos Salzedo formed the International <strong>Composers</strong><br />
Guild in 1921 to ensure performances <strong>of</strong> contemporary music. Concerts were restricted to<br />
previously unheard works, which upset some Guild members who quit and founded the<br />
League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> in 1923.<br />
Another internationalizing force in modern music was the International Society <strong>of</strong><br />
Contemporary Music, founded in Salzburg in 1922 with the purpose <strong>of</strong> breaking down<br />
national barriers and promoting contemporary music regardless <strong>of</strong> aesthetic trends or<br />
nationality, race, religion or political views <strong>of</strong> the composer. In their constitution the<br />
ISCM defined contemporary as “music <strong>of</strong> all European countries written within the last<br />
fifteen years,” which, <strong>of</strong> course, technically excluded <strong>American</strong>s. Members <strong>of</strong> the I.C.G.<br />
requested the constitution be amended. It was, and an international organization with<br />
headquarters in London was created in 1923. <strong>The</strong> New York chapter was established in<br />
1928, the same year that a Cuban chapter was founded in Havana. <strong>The</strong> League <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong>, which merged with the ISCM in 1954, was founded to promote the<br />
composition and performance <strong>of</strong> contemporary music. <strong>The</strong> League commissioned works<br />
by <strong>American</strong> and European composers, sponsored <strong>American</strong> premieres <strong>of</strong> notable<br />
European works such as Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps. Its quarterly, Modern<br />
Music, ran from 1924-46.<br />
<strong>The</strong> first west-coast organization for contemporary music was Henry Cowell’s<br />
New Music Society (1925-1958). Besides concerts, the society was responsible for the<br />
publication <strong>of</strong> New Music Quarterly (1927-58), the only series <strong>of</strong> its day dedicated solely<br />
to the publication <strong>of</strong> new scores including the New Music Orchestra Series (1932-9) and<br />
8
the New Music Quarterly Recordings (1934-42). <strong>The</strong>se ventures were funded almost<br />
exclusively by Charles Ives. <strong>The</strong> society generally championed U.S. <strong>American</strong><br />
composers, but New Music ventures also presented Schoenberg, Webern, Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
and Russian composers. Between 1928 and 1931 Aaron Copland and Roger Sessions<br />
organized a concert series they called the Copland-Sessions Concerts. Not intended as a<br />
competitor with the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>, to which both men belonged, this series was<br />
dedicated to the younger generation <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> composers. Its programs included four<br />
works by Carlos Chávez but no other Latin <strong>American</strong>s. Chávez, then living in New York,<br />
thought it would be a good idea to form a group to showcase talent from all <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Americas in the name <strong>of</strong> cultural exchange. Thus, the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong> was established. This society is the focus <strong>of</strong> Chapters 2 and 3 <strong>of</strong> this<br />
dissertation.<br />
Archival source material for this dissertation comes primarily from the New York<br />
Public Library <strong>of</strong> the Performing Arts and the Library <strong>of</strong> Congress. Travel has been made<br />
possible through grants from the Curtis Mayes Fund and the Presser Foundation. As the<br />
organizational backbone <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, Henry Cowell is <strong>of</strong> primary importance. His<br />
papers are housed at the New York Public Library. <strong>The</strong> collected papers <strong>of</strong> Nicolas<br />
Slonimsky, principal conductor <strong>of</strong> PAAC concerts, housed at the Library <strong>of</strong> Congress, are<br />
also an essential resource, because they provide his perspective on presenting <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong>ism to the world. Stylistic analysis <strong>of</strong> the music in Chapters 1, 3, and 4 provides<br />
evidence toward untangling the different strands <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism: modernism,<br />
indigenism and nationalism.<br />
Another essential aspect <strong>of</strong> this project is a reception history <strong>of</strong> the landmark<br />
PAAC concerts in Europe, which has not been attempted by previous research. A goal <strong>of</strong><br />
the utmost importance to members <strong>of</strong> the PAAC was to present themselves and their art<br />
in a positive light to Europeans and to be taken seriously by them. <strong>The</strong>y counted on their<br />
collective difference to push the margins <strong>of</strong> their peripheral position in Western musical<br />
culture.<br />
Chapter 1, “<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism in 1930s Percussion Ensemble Music,” examines<br />
six percussion ensemble works composed between 1929 and 1935 and traces the intricate<br />
stylistic and aesthetic connections between them, demonstrating the combinations <strong>of</strong><br />
9
primitivist, nationalist, modernist, and neo-classical tendencies usually treated as separate<br />
in the musicological literature. In doing so, this discussion reevaluates accepted<br />
nationalist discourses in the Americas from a transnational perspective and demonstrates<br />
how <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical creation arose organically from interactions between<br />
Mexican, Cuban, and U.S. composers. Chapter 2, “Organizing the Hemisphere: <strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>,” examines the early organizing efforts <strong>of</strong> the<br />
association and its concerts in New York and Cuba between 1931 and 1934. Here I<br />
introduce the society’s organizing principle <strong>of</strong> collective difference and assess its ability<br />
to impact the modern music scene in New York City and Havana. Chapter 3, “<strong>Collective</strong><br />
<strong>Difference</strong>: <strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> Abroad,” provides a chronology and<br />
reception history <strong>of</strong> the society’s European concerts. Chapter 4, “Esta boca es la mía:<br />
Jazz, Blues, and <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism during the Depression and the Popular Front,”<br />
explains connections between African <strong>American</strong>s and Latin <strong>American</strong>s that developed<br />
during the late 1930s and examines four Latin <strong>American</strong> art songs that participate in the<br />
international movement <strong>of</strong> negritude, or blackness, and incorporate elements <strong>of</strong> jazz and<br />
blues. Two anti-lynching songs by Carlos Chávez and Silvestre Revueltas show the<br />
extent to which the popular front <strong>of</strong> the late 1930s, with its wave <strong>of</strong> socialist activity,<br />
strengthened bonds between those in the western hemisphere who identified themselves<br />
(or each other) as members <strong>of</strong> a common <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> proletariat. Ultimately, this final<br />
chapter provides a necessary counterpoint to the PAAC’s activities by emphasizing<br />
connections between African <strong>American</strong> and Latin <strong>American</strong> cultures, circumventing the<br />
Anglo-<strong>American</strong> interpretation <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism that the PAAC espoused. <strong>The</strong><br />
Epilogue that concludes this study briefly discusses other developments <strong>of</strong> Inter-<br />
<strong>American</strong> musical cooperation, including the publication <strong>of</strong> the Boletín Latino-<br />
<strong>American</strong>o de Música in Uruguay by Francisco Curt Lange and the activities <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Music Division <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Union with Charles Seeger as its director.<br />
10
CHAPTER 1<br />
1930s PAN-AMERICAN PERCUSSION ENSEMBLE MUSIC<br />
“Nuts to Europe!” was the rallying cry issued by a group <strong>of</strong> modern composers<br />
from the Americas in the decade leading up to the Second World War. 1 Though these<br />
<strong>American</strong>s had been inspired by the work <strong>of</strong> formidable European modernists such as<br />
Igor Stravinsky, Béla Bartók, Darius Milhaud, and Manuel de Falla, they sought<br />
recognition <strong>of</strong> their own in the international modern music scene through a process<br />
Steven Schick has described as the “reexpression <strong>of</strong> inherited culture by means <strong>of</strong> new<br />
language.” 2 To accomplish such a goal, the composers examined in this chapter explored<br />
unorthodox or folk instruments, created new combinations <strong>of</strong> timbres, and developed<br />
fresh rhythmic devices. Works belonging to one genre in particular can be understood as<br />
an upwelling <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical creation: music written for an ensemble<br />
composed only <strong>of</strong> percussion instruments. <strong>The</strong> extant percussion ensemble works <strong>of</strong> the<br />
1930s provide ample evidence <strong>of</strong> an era <strong>of</strong> playful technical innovations and self-<br />
conscious explorations <strong>of</strong> rhythm and timbre. <strong>The</strong>y also embody the collective difference<br />
that guided the programming on concerts <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong>. In the percussion ensemble repertory one can find qualities <strong>of</strong> ancient and<br />
modern, quantifiable and mystical, cosmopolitan and parochial, programmatic and<br />
abstract. <strong>The</strong> following discussion reevaluates accepted nationalist discourses in the<br />
Americas from a transnational perspective. This revaluation de-emphasizes the<br />
importance <strong>of</strong> certain “-isms” associated with modern music (especially ultramodernism,<br />
1 A review <strong>of</strong> conductor Nicolas Slonimsky’s concert at the Hollywood Bowl in 1933 appears in a<br />
magazine issue entitled “Nuts! to Europe: Swell Stuff by Rodriguez, Lord and Vanderbilt,” Rob Wagner’s<br />
Script Weekly (Beverly Hills, CA) July 22, 1933 9/231. Nicolas Slonimsky Papers, Library <strong>of</strong> Congress.<br />
2 Steven Schick, <strong>The</strong> Percussionist’s Art: Same Bed, Different Dreams. (Rochester, NY: University <strong>of</strong><br />
Rochester Press, 2006), 35.<br />
11
neo-classicism, and neo-primitivism) by demonstrating each -ism’s similar goals in the<br />
context <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> percussion ensemble music.<br />
Below is a partial list <strong>of</strong> percussion works composed between 1929 and 1942.<br />
Note that this list includes <strong>American</strong> composers from the United States, Mexico, and<br />
Cuba, as well as two naturalized U.S. citizens: Edgard Varèse and Johanna Beyer.<br />
Edgard Varèse, Ionisation (1929-31)<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Rítmicas V and VI (1930)<br />
William Russell, Fugue for eight percussion instruments (1931)<br />
José Pomar, Preludio y Fuga para instrumentos de percusion (1932)<br />
José Ardévol, Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga (1933)<br />
John J. Becker, <strong>The</strong> Abongo: A Primitive Dance (1933)<br />
Johanna Beyer, Percussion Suite in Three Movements (1933)<br />
William Russell, Ogou Badagri: A Voodoo Ballet (1933)<br />
William Russell, Three Dance Movements (1933)<br />
Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo (1934)<br />
William Russell, Studies on Cuban Rhythms: Rumba, Habanera, Son (1935)<br />
Johanna Beyer, IV (1935)<br />
William Russell, March Suite (1936)<br />
William Russell, Made in America (1937)<br />
Johanna Beyer, March for 30 Percussion Instruments (1939)<br />
Johanna Beyer, Waltz for Percussion (1939)<br />
Lou Harrison, Fugue for Percussion Instruments (1941)<br />
Carlos Chávez, Toccata (1942)<br />
Figure 1.1. Some percussion ensemble works composed between 1929 and 1942.<br />
As discussed in the Introduction, the concerts <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong> presented a uniform pose based upon a strategy <strong>of</strong> unity in diversity. <strong>The</strong><br />
1928 manifesto, however, stated that the organization’s ultimate aim was to create a<br />
“distinctive music <strong>of</strong> the Western Hemisphere.” 3 This goal would, presumably, require<br />
some degree <strong>of</strong> similarity among the works presented. Percussion ensemble music<br />
figured prominently in the creation <strong>of</strong> a <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> style. Six <strong>of</strong> the ten composers in<br />
Figure 1 had works performed on PAAC concerts. Six <strong>of</strong> the eighteen works in the same<br />
list were either performed on PAAC concerts or published in Henry Cowell’s New Music<br />
Quarterly. Cowell noted that never before 1932 had he been <strong>of</strong>fered any work for<br />
3 <strong>The</strong> manifesto is mentioned in the Introduction and reprinted in its entirety in Chapter 2.<br />
12
publication composed for percussion instruments alone. In the 1932-33 season he<br />
received fifteen such works. 4 A few <strong>of</strong> these works had been completed as early as 1930.<br />
Noticing a trend, in October 1931 Cowell embarked on a three-month trip to Berlin to<br />
study world musics at the Berliner Phonogramm-Archiv. 5 His goal was to determine<br />
universal principles among world musics. While there, Cowell found sufficient<br />
confirmation <strong>of</strong> what he already believed: that “most [folk music] is sung to the<br />
accompaniment <strong>of</strong> percussion” and contains “rapid rhythmical changes, syncopations,<br />
polyrhythms and cross-rhythms.” 6 He used this information to explain the new<br />
compositional tendency in the Americas toward a music written for percussion<br />
ensembles.<br />
Primitivist compositional techniques sprang from the seeds <strong>of</strong> radical modernist<br />
experiments. Many <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> moderns drew from sources they defined as<br />
“primitive,” such as those with non-Western tonal systems or those based primarily on<br />
rhythm, to shape their conception <strong>of</strong> the new. <strong>The</strong>se materials served as a stimulating<br />
force that helped certain composers formulate their own aims, attributing to those<br />
materials the modern qualities they themselves sought to attain. Ultimately, the use <strong>of</strong><br />
primitive materials to invoke tangible remnants <strong>of</strong> “pre-history” (especially as such<br />
remnants were recognized among living populations) made both modernity and<br />
modernization more visible. After all, primitive materials always emerged as by-products<br />
<strong>of</strong> Western exploration and conquest. Thus, primitivist artistic representations soon<br />
became “highly charged signal[s] <strong>of</strong> otherness . . . that came to signify modernity.” 7<br />
According to Cowell, referring to the neo-classical works <strong>of</strong> Stravinsky, Copland, and<br />
others, the purpose <strong>of</strong> neo-primitivism was to counter the “supercilious formalism <strong>of</strong> a<br />
return to the particular style <strong>of</strong> some past century.” 8 Percussion music, then, contained<br />
4 Henry Cowell, “Towards Neo-Primitivism.” Modern Music 10/3 (1932-33), 153.<br />
5 This trip was financed by a grant from the Guggenheim Foundation.<br />
6 Cowell, “Towards Neo-Primitivism,” 152.<br />
7 Elazar Barkan and Ronald Bush, Prehistories <strong>of</strong> the Future: <strong>The</strong> Primitivist Project and the Culture <strong>of</strong><br />
Modernism. (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995): 3.<br />
8 Ibid., 150.<br />
13
enough novelty to be modern (especially in rhythm, form, and timbre) and to <strong>of</strong>fer a<br />
break from neo-classical European modernism, since it was ostensibly “unhampered by<br />
ecclesiastical rules.” 9<br />
Several different approaches to the percussion ensemble are evident in the titles in<br />
Figure 1. Certain works, such as John J. Becker’s <strong>The</strong> Abongo: A Primitive Dance,<br />
clearly invoke a neo-primitivist aesthetic. <strong>The</strong>se works incorporate Afro-Cuban, Haitian,<br />
and African-<strong>American</strong> rhythms. In doing so, they locate themselves in the Western<br />
Hemisphere while indicating the composer’s desire to participate in a cosmopolitan<br />
modernism based in neo-primitivist materials. <strong>The</strong> first part <strong>of</strong> this chapter examines this<br />
culture-specific neo-primitivism as found in percussion ensemble works.<br />
Building on the neo-primitivist strain, another style <strong>of</strong> percussion ensemble music<br />
evident in the pieces listed above involves a different approach to folk materials. Works<br />
such as Varèse’s Ionisation and Cowell’s Ostinato Pianissimo contain “primitive”<br />
characteristics such as sliding pitch, polyrhythms, and percussion but de-familiarize these<br />
elements by placing them within an ultramodern idiom. <strong>The</strong>se pieces achieve a more<br />
generic, universalized exotic sound that does not locate itself in a specific place or time.<br />
Still others among the titles in Figure 1 appear suspiciously European-derived in<br />
form or style: Prelude, Fugue, Toccata, Waltz, Suite, and March. In the ultimate<br />
expression <strong>of</strong> the sentiment “Nuts to Europe!” some <strong>American</strong>s turned these common-<br />
practice forms or styles on their heads. Even the most staid <strong>of</strong> European forms, the fugue,<br />
received such treatment. In a percussion ensemble fugue, rhythmic subjects replace<br />
melodic ones and combinations <strong>of</strong> timbres usurp the role <strong>of</strong> harmony. Another way <strong>of</strong><br />
contextualizing this practice is to say that these composers mitigated the jarring effect <strong>of</strong><br />
radically new materials with an established form that an audience might identify, such as<br />
a fugue. <strong>The</strong> latter part <strong>of</strong> this chapter examines two such percussion ensemble fugues.<br />
Ultramodernism, Neo-Primitivism, and New Uses <strong>of</strong> Percussion in Europe<br />
Percussion instruments, with their enormous variety <strong>of</strong> materials and sound<br />
production methods, seemed to many modern composers a vast uncharted territory <strong>of</strong><br />
new timbral and rhythmic possibilities. As such, these possibilities fell into the category<br />
9 Ibid., 153.<br />
14
<strong>of</strong> scientific and technological advancement that marked much early modern art.<br />
<strong>Composers</strong> were also, however, aware <strong>of</strong> the archaic origins <strong>of</strong> these instruments. Thus,<br />
percussion music participated in an underlying tension in art that was felt intensely in the<br />
early twentieth century: between the specificity and rationalization <strong>of</strong> art on the one hand<br />
and its universality and essential immediacy on the other. Because <strong>of</strong> this underlying<br />
tension, modernism (defined as progressive, forward-looking, and futuristic) and neo-<br />
primitivism (delving into an ancient past in a search for cultural renewal) have <strong>of</strong>ten<br />
seemed to be contradictory modernist projects. Consequently, these two strains <strong>of</strong><br />
modernism have been treated separately in much <strong>of</strong> the criticism <strong>of</strong> the period as well as<br />
in the musicological literature. This is especially true regarding the criticism <strong>of</strong> Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> composers, who, if they were considered at all, were <strong>of</strong>ten viewed as either<br />
modernists or primitivists/nationalists.<br />
However groundbreaking the percussion ensemble works <strong>of</strong> the early 1930s<br />
seemed, they were not without precedent. Several important developments in the use <strong>of</strong><br />
percussion led to its embrace by <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> composers. Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du<br />
printemps (1913) evoked prehistoric ritual by transforming the orchestra into an<br />
impetuous, largely percussive organism. With this work Stravinsky departed sharply from<br />
the musical styles <strong>of</strong> the Russian Five while extending their quest for a compositional<br />
identity that functioned both on national and international levels. Audiences throughout<br />
the Americas had to wait close to a decade after the premiere <strong>of</strong> Stravinsky’s Rite <strong>of</strong><br />
Spring to hear the work in its orchestral form. Many musicians and composers, however,<br />
knew the piece through the orchestral score and the two-piano reduction. 10 <strong>The</strong> U.S.<br />
première <strong>of</strong> the Rite was given by Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra on<br />
March 3, 1922. <strong>The</strong> first choreographed version in the United States was performed by<br />
Martha Graham, Stokowski, and the Philadelphia Orchestra in New York’s Metropolitan<br />
Opera House in April 1930 under the auspices <strong>of</strong> the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>. <strong>The</strong><br />
implications <strong>of</strong> Stravinsky’s elevation <strong>of</strong> timbre and rhythm in the Rite caused<br />
tremendous repercussions throughout the Americas. Alejo Carpentier noted that in<br />
Havana during the 1920s, “those who already knew the score <strong>of</strong> <strong>The</strong> Rite <strong>of</strong> Spring—the<br />
10 Henry Cowell, Carl Ruggles, and others recalled performing this arrangement. Carol Oja, Making Music<br />
Modern: New York in the 1920s. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 46.<br />
15
great revolutionary banner <strong>of</strong> the day—began to notice that in Regla, on the other side <strong>of</strong><br />
the bay, there were rhythms just as complex and interesting as those created by<br />
Stravinsky to evoke the primitive rituals <strong>of</strong> pagan Russia.” 11 Stravinsky composed the<br />
Rite in a Europe on the brink <strong>of</strong> war. <strong>The</strong> final, explosive danse sacrale was widely heard<br />
by contemporaries as an anti-nationalist commentary on human sacrifice in the name <strong>of</strong><br />
one’s tribe. 12<br />
Simultaneously, however, in spite <strong>of</strong> the work’s aural association with a specific<br />
time and place, elements <strong>of</strong> its musical style could be easily extrapolated and its<br />
instrumentation adapted to express other times and places—other tribes or nations.<br />
Stravinsky was widely hailed as the father <strong>of</strong> modernism as a generation <strong>of</strong> composers<br />
attempted to transpose his innovations in harmony, texture, form, and instrumentation to<br />
their own locales. In other words, the location <strong>of</strong> the Rite in an ancient time and place<br />
(pagan Russia) reinforced the work’s universality rather than precluding it. <strong>The</strong> Rite gave<br />
composers everywhere the impetus to mine the cultural materials <strong>of</strong> their ancient pasts to<br />
create their own versions <strong>of</strong> international modernism. If they did not have an ancient past,<br />
as in the relatively young United States, they simply borrowed or imagined musical<br />
elements <strong>of</strong> Native <strong>American</strong>s, descendents <strong>of</strong> imported Africans, or their Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> neighbors.<br />
Amerindian <strong>The</strong>mes in <strong>American</strong> Music<br />
Native <strong>American</strong> culture had been an object <strong>of</strong> study for European and <strong>American</strong><br />
artists, writers, and composers since the first encounters between explorers <strong>of</strong> the<br />
<strong>American</strong> continent and Native <strong>American</strong>s. One <strong>of</strong> the first <strong>American</strong>s to treat<br />
suggestions <strong>of</strong> Amerindian melodies in concert music was Anthony Philip Heinrich<br />
(1781-1861). <strong>The</strong> orchestral works <strong>of</strong> this German-Bohemian born composer were highly<br />
programmatic. His works that utilized Native <strong>American</strong> lore were <strong>of</strong>ten loosely based on<br />
historical meetings between Indians and whites or portraits <strong>of</strong> Indian leaders. Heinrich’s<br />
first such work was Pushmataha, a Venerable Chief <strong>of</strong> a Western Tribe <strong>of</strong> Indians (1831).<br />
11 Alejo Carpentier, Music in Cuba (268-9).<br />
12 In 1915, Jean Cocteau wrote that the work seemed to him a “prelude to war.” Quoted in Glenn Watkins,<br />
Pro<strong>of</strong> through the Night: Music and the Great War (Berkeley: University <strong>of</strong> California Press, 2003), 122.<br />
16
In his Tecumseh, or the Battle <strong>of</strong> the Thames (1846), Heinrich introduced cymbals,<br />
triangles, and other percussion, applying a Janissary sound to the “feats <strong>of</strong> a savage.” 13<br />
At the turn <strong>of</strong> the twentieth century an entire generation <strong>of</strong> composers embraced<br />
Native <strong>American</strong> lore. Many <strong>of</strong> them followed the lead <strong>of</strong> Louis Moreau Gottschalk<br />
(1829-1869), Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904), and Edward MacDowell (1860-1908) in<br />
signifying Native <strong>American</strong>s through pentatonic melodies and pounding drums. Henry F.<br />
Gilbert (1868-1928) was a Massachusetts-born composer and student <strong>of</strong> MacDowell.<br />
Gilbert’s works, such as <strong>The</strong> Intimate Story <strong>of</strong> Indian Tribal Life and Indian Sketches<br />
(both composed in 1911), incorporated such devices.<br />
Other composers, however, turned to ethnographic research to portray more<br />
accurately Native <strong>American</strong>s in music. During the summers <strong>of</strong> 1902 and 1903 Arthur<br />
Nevin (1871-1943) visited the Blackfoot Indians <strong>of</strong> Montana and transcribed their<br />
melodies. At the invitation <strong>of</strong> <strong>The</strong>odore Roosevelt, Nevin presented his resulting opera,<br />
Poia (1907), in the form <strong>of</strong> an illustrated lecture at the White House. Though it was never<br />
staged in the United States, Poia garnered much interest in Western Europe, which had<br />
had an ongoing fascination with exotic Native <strong>American</strong> cultures since the eighteenth<br />
century. <strong>The</strong> stage production <strong>of</strong> Poia premiered at the Royal Opera in Berlin on April<br />
23, 1910. Arthur Farwell (1872-1952) was another avid collector and arranger <strong>of</strong><br />
Amerindian melodies and a dedicated publisher <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music. Farwell’s<br />
arrangements incorporated chromaticism and whole-tone scales, as in his Impressions <strong>of</strong><br />
the Wa-Wan Ceremony <strong>of</strong> the Omahas, op. 21 (1905). Charles Wakefield Cadman (1881-<br />
1946) became interested in the music <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> Indians after reading articles by<br />
ethnologist Alice C. Fletcher and Francis La Flesche, son <strong>of</strong> a chief <strong>of</strong> the Omaha.<br />
Cadman recorded tribal songs on the Omaha and Winnebago Reservations, and the<br />
resulting material gave him impetus to initiate a series <strong>of</strong> lecture performances beginning<br />
in 1909. In 1918 the Metropolitan Opera produced Cadman’s Shanewis. His solo piano<br />
music, especially his Four <strong>American</strong> Indian Songs, op. 45, and his song cycles on Indian<br />
themes, including From Wigwam and Teepee (1914) were widely disseminated.<br />
13 Michael V. Pisani, Imagining Native America in Music, (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University<br />
Press, 2005), 108.<br />
17
All these composers idealized Amerindian themes by setting them to Romantic or<br />
Impressionistic harmonies and forms. After the First World War, however, an emerging<br />
generation <strong>of</strong> modern composers expanded their interest in Native <strong>American</strong> musical<br />
elements. Futurism and widespread fascination with mechanization and technology in the<br />
1920s produced composers who were eager to experiment with new timbres and new<br />
instruments. Edgard Varèse, for example, used Native <strong>American</strong> percussion instruments<br />
such as rasps, rattles, and tom-toms in the early 1920s. His Hyperprism (1922-23) seems<br />
to have been the first work to incorporate an Amerindian drum and rattles in an<br />
ultramodern setting. Henry Cowell’s Adagio for Cello and Thunderstick (1924) and<br />
Ensemble for String Quartet and Thunderstick (1924) both use the instrument known<br />
more commonly as the bullroarer. 14<br />
After Le Sacre du printemps other compositions soon followed that explored a<br />
new timbral sensibility, especially works for expanded percussion sections. Stravinsky’s<br />
Les Noces, completed in 1921, is a notable example. With its instrumentation <strong>of</strong> solo<br />
voices, four pianos used mainly percussively, and an ensemble <strong>of</strong> seventeen percussion<br />
instruments, the work seemed a logical next step in the development <strong>of</strong> a percussive<br />
genre. Around the same time, Darius Milhaud combined percussive possibilities with<br />
<strong>American</strong> themes. 15 His ballet L’Homme et son désir, Op. 48 (1918) contained sections <strong>of</strong><br />
music written exclusively for percussion, which were inspired by his trip to the Brazilian<br />
rainforest. Similarly, his 1927 opera Christophe Colomb paid homage to the European<br />
discoverer <strong>of</strong> the <strong>American</strong> continent by illustrating stories from his life. Premiered at the<br />
Berlin Staatsoper in 1930, this work originally included a rhythmically complex<br />
percussion part to accompany the narrator. Between 1929 and 1930 Milhaud composed<br />
the first concerto for percussion and orchestra. He also participated in the movement <strong>of</strong><br />
“negritude” (blackness) with La Création du monde (1922-23), a ballet employing jazz<br />
idioms that depicts the creation <strong>of</strong> the world based on African folk mythology. In a more<br />
futuristic vein, George Antheil’s Ballet mécanique (1924-25), a work scored for a large<br />
14 <strong>The</strong> bullroarer is an oval-shaped wooden instrument with a slight twist in its shape. It is attached to and<br />
spun through the air “lasso-style” by a piece <strong>of</strong> rope, which produces a humming sound. <strong>The</strong> bullroarer is<br />
not unique to Native <strong>American</strong> populations. It is traditionally used to create sound that travels long<br />
distances.<br />
15 Milhaud visited Brazil in 1917 and toured the U.S.A. in 1922 and 1927.<br />
18
percussion ensemble, eight pianos and two airplane propellers, captured the ultramodern<br />
spirit <strong>of</strong> mechanization. 16<br />
Percussion Music in the Americas<br />
U.S. composers’ interest in ancient musical materials can be most readily<br />
understood as an interest in exoticism. Elsewhere in the Americas, however, the use <strong>of</strong><br />
neo-primitivist musical materials can sometimes be considered constituents <strong>of</strong> broader<br />
nationalist movements. As these materials emerged from modernization, composers<br />
discovered timbral and rhythmic resources in their own native pasts. In Mexico, for<br />
example, a well-documented series <strong>of</strong> nation-building projects followed the Mexican<br />
Revolution <strong>of</strong> 1910-11. This nationalist movement initiated a tidal wave <strong>of</strong> government-<br />
sponsored archaeological research on pre-Columbian cultures and artifacts. One result in<br />
the area <strong>of</strong> music was Daniel Castañeda’s and Vicente Mendoza’s exhaustive work on<br />
pre-Hispanic musical instruments, Instrumental precortesiano (Pre-Cortesian<br />
Instruments, 1933). Dedicated specifically to percussion instruments, this 280-page<br />
volume was published under the auspices <strong>of</strong> the Mexican National Museum <strong>of</strong><br />
Archaeology, History and Ethnography. It included hundreds <strong>of</strong> photographs, detailed<br />
drawings, and explanations <strong>of</strong> the origins and evolution <strong>of</strong> percussion instruments in<br />
Mexico such as the varied types <strong>of</strong> teponaztli, huéhuetl, and timbal, as well as their<br />
accompanying rhythms. Figure 1.2 is a diagram from Instrumental precortesiano <strong>of</strong> a<br />
teponaztli, or slit drum, showing its exact measurements and relief carvings.<br />
Carlos Chávez (1899-1978) and his students at the National Conservatory <strong>of</strong><br />
Mexico in Mexico City benefited from the research presented in Instrumental<br />
precortesiano. Between 1931 and 1934 Chávez held a series <strong>of</strong> composition seminars, the<br />
purpose <strong>of</strong> which was to give young Mexican composers “a living comprehension <strong>of</strong> the<br />
musical tradition <strong>of</strong> their own country.” 17 Seminarians included Instrumental co-author<br />
16 In the 1920s mechanization was outré. By the early 1930s, however, it was considered largely outdated<br />
as an elevated mode <strong>of</strong> expression, having been satirized and given mass-market appeal by media such as<br />
the Charles Chaplin film Modern Times (1936).<br />
17 Carlos Chávez, “Revolt in Mexico.” Modern Music 13/3 (1936), 39.<br />
19
Mendoza, Daniel Ayala, Blas Galindo, and Silvestre Revueltas. Chávez was, therefore,<br />
among the first to teach non-Western music in an academic setting.<br />
Figure 1.2. Diagram <strong>of</strong> a teponaztli. Daniel Castañeda and Vicente T. Mendoza, Instrumental precortesiano<br />
(Mexico City: Museo Nacional de Arqueologia, Historia y Etnografia, 1933; reprint Mexico City: UNAM,<br />
1991), unnumbered insert.<br />
One goal <strong>of</strong> these seminars was to explore ways to incorporate indigenous<br />
instruments, mostly percussion, into Mexican orchestral music. In a 1936 article in<br />
Modern Music Chávez explained that the seminars resulted in “the group <strong>of</strong> instruments<br />
we call the Mexican Orchestra . . . a specially balanced ensemble <strong>of</strong> conventional<br />
instruments with the addition <strong>of</strong> huéhuetls, teponaxtles, chirimias, and various kinds <strong>of</strong><br />
water-drums [and] rasps.” 18 At that time, however, although all <strong>of</strong> the seminarians<br />
worked toward incorporating such percussion in their compositions, none <strong>of</strong> them<br />
composed for an all-percussion ensemble. In fact, Chávez would not do so until 1942,<br />
when he wrote Toccata for percussion at the behest <strong>of</strong> John Cage.<br />
In Cuba during the 1920s the commercialization and internationalization <strong>of</strong> son<br />
and rumba led some composers to experiment with the Afro-Caribbean rhythms present<br />
18 Ibid.<br />
20
in those popular dance genres. <strong>The</strong> international movement <strong>of</strong> negritude and the<br />
appropriation <strong>of</strong> blackness by white Cuban society led to the adoption <strong>of</strong> this popular<br />
music as an agent <strong>of</strong> nationalization. <strong>Composers</strong> such as Amadeo Roldán and Alejandro<br />
García Caturla, however, adapted the instruments and rhythms associated with son and<br />
commercial rumba to modernist frameworks, affirming their participation in international<br />
modernism that had been established in Cuba by the grupo minorista. 19<br />
In several South <strong>American</strong> countries composers experimented with native<br />
materials in order to achieve modernist national musics. This chapter, however, is limited<br />
to three <strong>American</strong> countries in which percussion ensemble works were composed in the<br />
1930s: Cuba, Mexico, and the United States. <strong>Composers</strong> from these three countries had<br />
more contact with each other during this decade than any <strong>of</strong> them had with composers in<br />
South America (with the exception <strong>of</strong> Brazilian Heitor Villa-Lobos). That would change<br />
dramatically in the following decade, when the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> spectrum was broadened<br />
as a result <strong>of</strong> increased geopolitical awareness caused by the Second World War. Some<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical developments <strong>of</strong> the 1940s are briefly discussed in the Epilogue to<br />
this dissertation.<br />
As political and economic circumstances ushered in a new era <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
sentiment U.S. composers expanded their compositional purview to include Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> musics as well. Throughout the 1920s a vogue for Hispanic culture,<br />
particularly Mexican and Cuban, provided fertile soil for the cultivation <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
exchanges. In some ways this vogue merely expanded the concept <strong>of</strong> the “frontier,”<br />
which had long been a potent force in the history <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> ideas. 20 As the western<br />
frontier <strong>of</strong> the United States was settled and the north became increasingly industrial, a<br />
new frontier emerged: the largely agricultural societies in Latin America, which provided<br />
the U.S. with a new space for economic and artistic cultivation.<br />
19 <strong>The</strong> grupo minorista (minority group) was comprised <strong>of</strong> artists, writers, and composers from Cuba’s<br />
leftist intellectual vanguard who, building on the work <strong>of</strong> Cuban ethnologist Fernando Ortiz, recognized the<br />
significant contribution <strong>of</strong> West African traditions to postcolonial Cuban culture. <strong>The</strong> group included Alejo<br />
Carpentier, José A. Fernández de Castro, Jorge Mañach, and José Z. Tallet, among many others. <strong>The</strong>ir<br />
political and cultural manifesto appeared in Social in June 1927. <strong>The</strong>y began a journal, the Revista de<br />
Avance, the same year.<br />
20 See, for example, J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, Letters from an <strong>American</strong> Farmer (1782, reprinted,<br />
New York: Dover, 2005).<br />
21
In music this cultivation <strong>of</strong>ten involved experimentation with Mexican,<br />
Caribbean, or South <strong>American</strong> rhythms (such as the habanera or huapango) and<br />
percussion instruments. As in early portrayals <strong>of</strong> Native <strong>American</strong> cultures, some <strong>of</strong> these<br />
experiments were based on generic or invented Afro-Caribbean sounds. John J. Becker’s<br />
Abongo: A Primitive Dance calls for nine drums <strong>of</strong> varying size, tin pans, small and large<br />
barrels, timpani, cymbals, a large gong, and the hand clapping and voices <strong>of</strong> a dance<br />
chorus, but it does not contain specific local rhythms or styles <strong>of</strong> drumming. William<br />
Russell (1905-1992), a more ethnographically-minded musician and a student <strong>of</strong> Cowell,<br />
tried to reproduce Haitian rhythms and drumming in his Ogou Badagri: A Voodoo Ballet<br />
after a trip to the island in 1932. He attempted a similar experiment in 1935: a set <strong>of</strong><br />
studies on Cuban rhythms scored exclusively for Afro-Cuban percussion.<br />
Russell is primarily known today as a tireless collector <strong>of</strong> jazz records, for making<br />
the first recordings <strong>of</strong> a New Orleans brass band, and for having been the first curator <strong>of</strong><br />
the Hogan Jazz Archive at Tulane University in 1958. His contribution to the percussion<br />
ensemble literature, however, is also substantial. Cowell and Cage both championed<br />
Russell’s percussion works. <strong>The</strong>se pieces, eight altogether, were performed on at least<br />
fifteen concerts between 1933 and 1961, an enviable frequency considering that Russell<br />
was disinclined to promote his own works.<br />
Russell was born as Russell William Wagner in Canton, Missouri. To avoid<br />
association with Richard Wagner when Cowell published his Fugue for Eight Percussion<br />
Instruments in 1933, he changed his name to William Russell. 21 <strong>The</strong> new sounds <strong>of</strong> the<br />
jazz band captivated Russell at an early age. When at ten years old he expressed an<br />
interest in playing drums, his mother encouraged him to instead take up the violin, which<br />
he did. He graduated from Culver-Stockton College in 1926 with a certificate in music<br />
education. After spending a year teaching at a high school and a small college in<br />
Yankton, South Dakota (at which he had the college orchestra perform Gershwin’s<br />
Rhapsody in Blue), Russell moved to New York City to attend Columbia University<br />
Teachers’ College. At the same time, he took violin lessons from Max Pilzer,<br />
21 Unless otherwise indicated, biographical information on William Russell is taken from Southern<br />
Quarterly 36/2 (Winter 1998), which is dedicated to the composer. <strong>The</strong> most pertinent article to the present<br />
discussion is Don Gillespie’s “William Russell: <strong>American</strong> Percussion Composer” (35-55).<br />
22
concertmaster <strong>of</strong> the New York Philharmonic, and became interested in various world<br />
musics under Cowell’s tutelage.<br />
Russell began collecting jazz records in 1929 while teaching part time at the<br />
Staten Island Academy. Sifting through a few records that one <strong>of</strong> his students left behind<br />
at the end <strong>of</strong> the year, one caught Russell’s eye: Jelly Roll Morton and His Red Hot<br />
Peppers playing “Shoe Shiner’s Drag.” That record sparked an interest in jazz that<br />
influenced the remainder <strong>of</strong> his career. He eventually amassed one <strong>of</strong> the country’s most<br />
complete collections <strong>of</strong> jazz recordings by such musicians as Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll<br />
Morton, Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and King Oliver. 22<br />
Soon Russell’s interest in jazz extended to African and Caribbean music, as well.<br />
Biographer Don Gillespie reported that “around 1930, [Russell] heard a group <strong>of</strong> African<br />
drummers in New York City” and he was captivated by the non-Western rhythms.<br />
Russell embarked on a month-long trip to Haiti in August 1932 to hear “voodoo<br />
drummers” perform native dances. He hiked into the country to a psychiatric asylum run<br />
by an <strong>American</strong> voodoo enthusiast. Describing the experience in a 1991 interview with<br />
Don Gillespie and Donal Young, Russell recalled, “[Dr. Reiser] put on sort <strong>of</strong> a fake<br />
ceremony, not with the dancers, mainly with the music. . . . I was trying to learn the<br />
rhythms so I could write them down.” 23 While still in Port-au-Prince, Russell began<br />
composing his “voodoo ballet” Ogou Badagri, which he completed in New York in 1933.<br />
<strong>The</strong> work was his largest for percussion ensemble, and it included a detailed scenario for<br />
musicians and dancers. Despite Russell’s efforts to have the ballet produced (among<br />
others, he <strong>of</strong>fered it to Martha Graham and Leopold Stokowski), Ogou Badagri remained<br />
unperformed for six decades.<br />
In addition to Haitian drumming Russell encountered Cuban music while living in<br />
New York City. <strong>The</strong> ease <strong>of</strong> travel between New York and Havana in the 1930s led to an<br />
influx <strong>of</strong> Cuban citizens and culture into the United States. Russell recalled being<br />
impressed by the infectious Afro-Caribbean rhythms <strong>of</strong> visiting Cuban musicians in<br />
22 William Frederick Wagner, “A Brother Remembers William Russell,” Southern Quarterly 36/2 (Winter<br />
1998): 19-26.<br />
23 Don Gillespie and Donal Young. “Interview with William Russell.” Percussive Arts Society Research<br />
Proceedings 1 (1991): 23-24. Quoted in Gillespie, 38.<br />
23
Cowell’s world music class at the New School in 1934: “<strong>The</strong>y used two guitars, but four<br />
<strong>of</strong> them just played percussion: marimbula, cencerro, bongos, jawbone and all. It was<br />
thrilling. <strong>The</strong> whole audience went wild about them. <strong>The</strong>y weren’t even pr<strong>of</strong>essional—<br />
just happened to be in New York.” 24 <strong>The</strong> melding <strong>of</strong> U.S. and Afro-Cuban popular<br />
musics in New York, leading to salsa and its related genres, has been well documented. 25<br />
Bongos, cowbell, quijada, and other Cuban instruments left their mark on concert music,<br />
as well. After hearing the Cuban musicians in Cowell’s seminar, Russell immediately<br />
purchased a set <strong>of</strong> similar instruments in Harlem and began composing his Percussion<br />
Studies in Cuban Rhythms. All three studies use only Afro-Caribbean percussion<br />
instruments: güiro, cowbell, maracas, claves, quijada, bongos, and marimbula (a large<br />
lamellophone in the form <strong>of</strong> a wooden box usually sat upon by the player). Each piece is<br />
a study on an Afro-Caribbean genre and its characteristic rhythms. In no. 1, “Havanera,”<br />
the habanera rhythm is the most prominent feature. It is also the simplest <strong>of</strong> the three<br />
studies and represents Russell’s first attempt at experimentation with Afro-Cuban<br />
rhythms and instruments. Each instrument enters the texture in succession, as shown in<br />
Example 1.1.<br />
24 Don Gillespie, “William Russell: <strong>American</strong> Percussion Composer” Southern Quarterly 36/2 (Winter<br />
1998): 43.<br />
25 See, for example, John Storm Roberts, <strong>The</strong> Latin Tinge: <strong>The</strong> Impact <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> Music on the<br />
United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979).<br />
24
Example 1.1. William Russell, Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms, Opening <strong>of</strong> No. 1 “Havanera,” mm.<br />
1-15.<br />
Study No. 2, “Rhumba,” maintains a 3-2 son clave throughout. Son is the Cuban<br />
music and dance genre that developed in the province <strong>of</strong> Oriente at the end <strong>of</strong> the<br />
nineteenth century. “Clave” is the name <strong>of</strong> both the instrument and fundamental rhythm<br />
<strong>of</strong> Cuban music. Son clave is a two-measure rhythmic figure. One measure contains two<br />
articulations (called the “2-side,” Example 1.2a), and the other measure contains three<br />
articulations (the “3-side,” Example 1.2b). <strong>The</strong> two-measure figure may start on either<br />
side <strong>of</strong> the clave and is named accordingly. Thus, playing the 2-side first results in a 2-3<br />
clave while beginning on the 3-side yields a 3-2 clave. For the percussionists, other<br />
instrumentalists, and singers in a group to sound concerted they must remain on the same<br />
side <strong>of</strong> the clave; in other words, their accented notes must coincide. A typical amateur<br />
mistake in Afro-Caribbean repertoire is to play on the wrong side <strong>of</strong> the clave. <strong>The</strong><br />
jumbled result <strong>of</strong> non-aligned accents is called cruzao (crossed) clave.<br />
25
Example 1.2a. <strong>The</strong> “2-side” <strong>of</strong> a son clave in 4/4 Example 1.2b. <strong>The</strong> “3-side” <strong>of</strong> a son clave in 4/4<br />
A crossed clave pervades Russell’s “Rhumba.” Instruments do not align on crucial<br />
accents, creating a sense <strong>of</strong> rhythmic imbalance. This instability is especially pronounced<br />
in the opening measures shown in Example 1.3. <strong>The</strong> marimbula opens the work with a<br />
two-measure pattern. Maracas enter with their own two-measure pattern in m. 3. <strong>The</strong><br />
clave enters at m. 4 creating a crossed clave since it sounds one measure out <strong>of</strong> sync with<br />
the marimbula and maracas. Even more curiously, the bongo enters at m. 5 so that it<br />
should align with the two-measure patterns <strong>of</strong> the marimbula and maracas, but instead it<br />
opens with one measure <strong>of</strong> roll before beginning its two-measure gesture. By m. 8 in the<br />
figure below it has aligned with the crossed clave. <strong>The</strong> pattern <strong>of</strong> the güiro, which enters<br />
in measure 31 and exhibits a cinquillo rhythm, similarly crosses the 3-2 clave.<br />
Example 1.3. William Russell, Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms No. 2, “Rhumba,” mm. 1-10.<br />
No. 3, entitled “Tiempo de son” (Tempo <strong>of</strong> a son), is the most complex <strong>of</strong> the three<br />
pieces but is also replete with distracting cruzao sections. It is possible that Russell was<br />
intentionally experimenting with these crossed rhythms; his application <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s<br />
theories on rhythm is discussed later in the chapter.<br />
If Russell’s Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms does not adhere to the rhythmic<br />
guidelines <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban composition, it at least represents, along with his ballet Ogou<br />
Badagri and John J. Becker’s Abongo, the enthusiasm for Afro-Caribbean rhythms and<br />
26
instruments that contributed to the development <strong>of</strong> the percussion ensemble. Perhaps if<br />
Russell had been able to consult Amadeo Roldán’s percussion Rítmicas (1930) he would<br />
have had a better model for the use <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban musical elements. Unfortunately,<br />
these pieces (the final two in a series <strong>of</strong> six Rítmicas) were not performed publicly until<br />
1939.<br />
Roldán (1900-1939) contributed an essay to Henry Cowell’s book <strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong> on <strong>American</strong> Music (1933) that demonstrated his willingness to take part in<br />
the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> modernist enterprise: “My aim is first <strong>of</strong> all to attain a production<br />
thoroughly <strong>American</strong> . . . an art that we can call ours, continental, worthy <strong>of</strong> being<br />
universally accepted not on account <strong>of</strong> its exotic qualities . . . [but] for its meaning as a<br />
contribution <strong>of</strong> the New World to the universal art.” While recognizing the importance <strong>of</strong><br />
transforming folklore into a modernist expression, Roldán also likened the use <strong>of</strong> U.S.<br />
jazz in concert music to Afro-Cuban music when he wrote, “the sound <strong>of</strong> a banjo must<br />
not always bring jazz to our mind, nor should the rhythm <strong>of</strong> our güiro always recall a<br />
rumba.” 26 Roldán’s contributions to Cuban musical modernism have been well<br />
documented. 27 His participation in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> enterprise, however, has been less<br />
recognized. As director <strong>of</strong> the West Indies section <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, Roldán planned his own<br />
concerts <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> music in Havana. His activities on behalf <strong>of</strong> the organization<br />
are discussed in Chapter 2.<br />
Critics and scholars have noted that the last two Rítmicas are studies on the Cuban<br />
son and rumba, respectively, and, indeed, Roldán scored the last two <strong>of</strong> his six Rítmicas<br />
for an ensemble entirely <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban percussion: four sets <strong>of</strong> claves, cowbell, maracas,<br />
quijada, güiro, bongos, timbales, bombo, and marimbula (usually performed today with a<br />
double bass pizzicato). Both pieces demonstrate Roldán’s mastery <strong>of</strong> the rhythms <strong>of</strong><br />
popular Afro-Cuban music and his willingness to fragment and reconstruct them. <strong>The</strong><br />
result was a national Cuban music that resonated far beyond the island republic.<br />
26 Amadeo Roldán, “<strong>The</strong> Artistic Position <strong>of</strong> the <strong>American</strong> Composer,” in <strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> on<br />
<strong>American</strong> Music: A Symposium, ed. Henry Cowell (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1933; reprint<br />
New York: Frederick Ungar, 1962).<br />
27 See Zoila Gomez, Amadeo Roldán (Havana: Editorial arte y literatura, 1977) and Maria Antonieta<br />
Henríquez and José Piñero Díaz, Amadeo Roldán: Testimonios (Havana: Letras Cubanas, 2001).<br />
27
At only 109 measures, Rítmica No. 5 is brief. Beginning in 2/4, it is marked<br />
“tiempo de son” (in the tempo <strong>of</strong> a son), which does not mean that this work is limited to<br />
the folk rhythms <strong>of</strong> the Cuban son, as were Russell’s Studies. Rather than an amateur’s<br />
experiment with son rhythms and instruments, Rítmica No. 5 is a carefully constructed<br />
play on the listener’s expectations <strong>of</strong> how Afro-Caribbean rhythms are used. Roldán<br />
begins the work by deconstructing the 3-2 clave in the nine-measure introduction, which<br />
breaks down the pattern into its two component parts. Measures 1-6 present only the “3-<br />
side” <strong>of</strong> the clave, also widely known as tresillo (Example 1.2b). Measures 7-9 contain a<br />
modified version <strong>of</strong> the “2-side” <strong>of</strong> the clave. <strong>The</strong> purpose <strong>of</strong> Roldán’s subtle rhythmic<br />
devices is to create startling syncopations and rhythmic dissonances between instruments,<br />
which cause playfully disorienting sensations throughout the piece. This disorientation is<br />
more carefully considered, however, than that <strong>of</strong> the distracting cruzao sections found in<br />
Russell’s Cuban suite.<br />
Roldán accomplishes rhythmic dissonance by establishing an ostinato rhythm,<br />
only to shift it abruptly. <strong>The</strong> most striking <strong>of</strong> these situations is caused by a meter shift<br />
from 2/4 to 3/8 for only one measure (16). This shift displaces the güiro’s cinquillo<br />
pattern, which finishes across the barline <strong>of</strong> m. 17. <strong>The</strong> shift is, therefore, imperceptible<br />
until it displaces the cinquillo <strong>of</strong> the maracas in m. 17. Instead <strong>of</strong> the clear downbeat<br />
given in the score, the maracas’ rhythm sounds displaced, or what might be called a<br />
carefully planned cruzao section (Example 1.4). By the omission <strong>of</strong> one eighth note the<br />
“groove” <strong>of</strong> the ensemble is successfully thrown <strong>of</strong>f, and syncopation abounds as<br />
successive entrances <strong>of</strong> the 3-side and then the modified 2-side <strong>of</strong> the clave lead to a mini<br />
climax in m. 29.<br />
28
Example 1.4. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 14-21, top system only.<br />
<strong>The</strong> following section presents another set <strong>of</strong> rhythmic dissonances to challenge the<br />
listener (Example 1.6). In this passage, four pairs <strong>of</strong> Claves 28 enter one at a time and<br />
intersect in an increasingly complex contrapuntal texture. Claves B enter after the 3-side<br />
<strong>of</strong> Claves A. Claves C enter in the middle <strong>of</strong> the 3-side <strong>of</strong> Claves B, and Claves D enter<br />
in the middle <strong>of</strong> the 3-side <strong>of</strong> Claves C, a progression that is best understood through the<br />
chart <strong>of</strong> entrances in Example 1.6. In the resulting texture it is still possible to identify<br />
individual clave patterns because the Claves are separated by register. <strong>The</strong>ir presentation<br />
together, however, thwarts the otherwise steady pulse and is rhythmically disorienting,<br />
since the clave (and Clave) are normally the most audible and ever-present elements <strong>of</strong><br />
the traditional Cuban son.<br />
28 To avoid much confusion in the following paragraph, I capitalize Claves (the instrument) to avoid<br />
confusion with clave (the rhythm). Also, the four pairs <strong>of</strong> Claves in Figure 8 are labeled A-D to distinguish<br />
them from references to the 2-side and 3-side <strong>of</strong> the clave.<br />
29
Example 1.5. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, first page.<br />
Example 1.6. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 35-47. Layered entrances <strong>of</strong> the 3-2 son clave.<br />
<strong>The</strong>se measures sound exactly like what one would expect from the figure above: a<br />
canon. This passage is an early example <strong>of</strong> canonic writing for percussion, a technique<br />
that was emulated by composers <strong>of</strong> percussion fugues discussed later in this chapter.<br />
30
Rítmica No. 5 separates rhythmic elements <strong>of</strong> the popular son and reconstructs them to<br />
create a piece <strong>of</strong> music fit to participate in international modernism by virtue <strong>of</strong> its<br />
combination <strong>of</strong> local forms, rhythms, and timbres, and its international qualities such as<br />
rhythmic experimentation and brief incorporation <strong>of</strong> canon.<br />
Rítmica No. 6 is Roldán’s interpretation <strong>of</strong> what he heard on the streets <strong>of</strong><br />
Havana. This is not the commercial rumba played in the cabarets and nightclubs <strong>of</strong> Paris<br />
or New York. It is the noncommercial rumba, a music and dance that developed in the<br />
Black urban slums <strong>of</strong> Havana and Matanzas in the late nineteenth century. <strong>The</strong><br />
noncommercial rumba sounds more African due to the cyclic nature <strong>of</strong> the rhythms and<br />
the fact that it utilizes only percussion and voices. 29 In No. 6 rhythmic cells enter but<br />
never drop out <strong>of</strong> the texture; they become more elaborate and improvisational-sounding<br />
until the work ends on a loud climax.<br />
Some confusion has resulted from several sources that list “Rítmicas (for<br />
percussion)” on a PAAC concert in New York City on March 10, 1931. 30 <strong>The</strong> New York<br />
Times announcement on March 9 listed Roldán’s work as “Four Rítmicas” (Nos. 1-4,<br />
which include no percussion). <strong>The</strong> rest <strong>of</strong> the program on March 10 consisted <strong>of</strong> pieces<br />
for chamber instrumental ensembles without percussion. Due to practical concerns (both<br />
percussionists and percussion instruments—especially Afro-Cuban ones—were difficult<br />
to obtain), no other PAAC concert presented only one piece for percussion ensemble.<br />
According to Roldán biographer Zoila Gomez, Rítmicas Nos. 1-4 were presented on a<br />
program <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s New Music Society in San Francisco in 1930 and “in 1931 they<br />
were conducted by Adolph Weiss in New York” 31 (the March 10 performance, which<br />
was the only PAAC concert Weiss conducted in 1931). In their book Amadeo Roldán:<br />
Testimonios, editors María Antonieta Henríquez and José Piñero Díaz confirm a New<br />
29 For more on the differences between commercial and noncommercial rumba, see Robin Moore, “Poetic,<br />
Visual, and Symphonic Interpretations <strong>of</strong> the Cuban Rumba: Toward a Model <strong>of</strong> Integrated Studies.” Lenox<br />
Avenue: A Journal <strong>of</strong> Interarts Inquiry 4 (1998), 101.<br />
30 This appears in Deane Root, “<strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> (1928-1934),” Anuario<br />
Interamericano de Investigación Musical 8 (1972): 62. It is repeated in Carol Oja’s appendix to Making<br />
Music Modern: New York in the 1920s. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 394.<br />
31 Zoila Gomez, Amadeo Roldán, 72.<br />
31
York performance <strong>of</strong> Nos. 1-4 in 1931. 32 Furthermore, the manuscript <strong>of</strong> Rítmica No. 6 in<br />
the Fleisher Collection <strong>of</strong> the Free Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia contains the inscription: “First<br />
performance Seattle, Cornish School,” one <strong>of</strong> John Cage’s famous percussion concerts <strong>of</strong><br />
1939. This is an important issue to clarify, because if the last two Rítmicas had been<br />
performed in 1931, they would mark the first performance <strong>of</strong> percussion ensemble music<br />
in the Americas other than George Antheil’s Ballet mécanique. As it is, this is not the<br />
case.<br />
Russell’s “Percussion Studies in Cuban Rhythms” shows a young composer<br />
experimenting with an exotic set <strong>of</strong> rhythms and instruments. Roldán’s folk rhythms and<br />
ensemble also signify Cuban music, but he altered those rhythms and enlarged their<br />
capacity for participation in international modernism. Rather than merely exploiting the<br />
exotic qualities <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban music, Roldán modernized it. Conversely, Edgard Varèse<br />
(1883-1965) added exotic musical elements, including Afro-Caribbean instruments and<br />
rhythms, to ultramodernism in his percussion ensemble work, Ionisation.<br />
It may seem strange to label Varèse’s Ionisation a <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> work, since<br />
Varèse composed it entirely in France between 1929 and 1931. <strong>The</strong> essence <strong>of</strong> Ionisation<br />
is firmly rooted in a cosmopolitan urban atmosphere in all its cultural diversity. <strong>The</strong> piece<br />
represents a mixture <strong>of</strong> cultures, evident from the short repeating cells <strong>of</strong> traditional Latin<br />
music and the Chinese cymbals and gongs that mark important structural moments, the<br />
European and <strong>American</strong> marching traditions in the snare drums, and the sirens <strong>of</strong> the<br />
urban soundscape.<br />
Paris, with its influx in the 1920s <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> artists, was an ideal place to<br />
compose this music. Varèse returned to France as a U.S. citizen and as President <strong>of</strong> the<br />
PAAC. 33 He intended to present music <strong>of</strong> the Americas as an antidote to the reigning neo-<br />
classicism in French music. But music from the Americas had preceded him. When<br />
Varèse arrived in France, Joséphine Baker was taking Europe by storm and Cuban singer<br />
Rita Montaner’s version <strong>of</strong> “El manisero” (<strong>The</strong> Peanut Vendor) was surging through<br />
Parisian popular society. As early as 1922 Cuban writer Alejo Carpentier reported from<br />
32 Antonieta Henríquez and José Piñero Díaz, Amadeo Roldán: Testimonios, 219.<br />
33 Varèse became a U.S. citizen in October 1927.<br />
32
Paris, “there is nothing more contemporary, nothing more now these days than the abrupt<br />
and unexpected triumph <strong>of</strong> Cuban music.” 34<br />
Varèse sought to convince his fellow Frenchmen that there was more to music in<br />
the Americas than that borrowed from their African roots. He believed, as he later<br />
famously wrote, that composers “must draw a line between entertainment and art. Art is<br />
from the shoulders up. <strong>The</strong> other is from the hips down.” 35 While Cuban musicians and<br />
composers typically did not accept rigid boundaries between low/popular and high/art<br />
music, 36 Varèse would have easily dismissed the prospect <strong>of</strong> using the Cuban son and<br />
rumba as sources for art music on the basis <strong>of</strong> their association with popular dance and<br />
negritude. It is not surprising, therefore, that another Varèse biographer, Odile Vivier,<br />
claimed that Varèse remarked to her in reference to Roldán’s Rítmicas, “I know I am<br />
really the first to have written compositions for solo percussion.” 37<br />
Ionisation is likely the most analyzed piece in the percussion ensemble literature.<br />
Henry Cowell wrote that it “sprang from the composer’s association with futurist<br />
esthetics.” 38 Nicolas Slonimsky <strong>of</strong>fered a different approach to the work, describing it as<br />
a kind <strong>of</strong> sonata form. 39 Varèse himself described his work rather cryptically: “<strong>The</strong>re is<br />
an idea, the basis <strong>of</strong> an internal structure, expanded and split into different shapes or<br />
groups <strong>of</strong> sound constantly changing is shape, direction, and speed, attracted and repulsed<br />
by various forces. <strong>The</strong> form is the consequence <strong>of</strong> this interaction.” 40 In a letter to Carlos<br />
Salzedo in which Varèse described Ionisation, he included an enclosure from<br />
34 Timothy Brennan, “Preface,” in Alejo Carpentier, Music in Cuba, 3.<br />
35 Edgard Varèse and Chou Wen-Chung, “<strong>The</strong> Liberation <strong>of</strong> Sound,” Perspectives <strong>of</strong> New Music 5/1<br />
(Autumn-Winter 1966), 16.<br />
36 A Cuban composer who was equally accepted as a composer <strong>of</strong> popular and concert music was Ernesto<br />
Lecuona (1895-1963), whose most popular songs include “Siboney” and “Malagueña.”<br />
37 Odile Vivier, Varèse. (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1973): 93. Quoted in Paraskevaídis (2004): 11. Since<br />
Varèse never composed for any one solo percussion instrument, we can safely assume he (or Vivier) meant<br />
percussion ensemble.<br />
38 Henry Cowell, “Drums along the Pacific.” Modern Music 18/1 (1940-1): 46.<br />
39 Nicolas Slonimsky, Music Since 1900, (New York: Schirmer, 1937; sixth ed. 2001), 340-341.<br />
40 Varèse and Chou, “<strong>The</strong> Liberation <strong>of</strong> Sound,” 16.<br />
33
astrophysicist Arthur Stanley Eddington’s 1927 book Stars and Atoms, which Varèse said<br />
explained both the work’s title and its organization. <strong>The</strong> enclosure read: “At the high<br />
temperature inside a star the battering <strong>of</strong> the particles by one another, and more especially<br />
the collision <strong>of</strong> the ether waves (X-rays) with atoms, cause electrons to be broken <strong>of</strong>f and<br />
set free . . . This breaking away <strong>of</strong> electrons from atoms is called ionization.” 41<br />
Cryptically, Varèse concluded this letter, “Ionisation represents . . . the mystery <strong>of</strong> the<br />
skies <strong>of</strong> America.” 42<br />
Mystery, <strong>American</strong>ness, and the primitive are aspects <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s works<br />
sometimes overlooked because <strong>of</strong> his dedication to abstract music after 1945. His<br />
projects during his time in Montparnasse, however, reveal his enthusiasm for expressing<br />
the primitive. In 1930, at the same time he was working on Ionisation, he was also<br />
writing <strong>The</strong>-One-All-Alone, a stage work that was conceived on a grand scale but never<br />
finished. He wrote instructions to his wife Louise Varèse, who was writing the scenario,<br />
“Don’t forget the aspect <strong>of</strong> returning to the primitive: pounding dance <strong>of</strong> fear, almost<br />
voodooistic prophetic cries—shaking, twitching—and the ending as grand as the heavens.<br />
Apocalypse. Apocalypse.” 43 Though Varèse was writing about <strong>The</strong>-One-All-Alone, it is<br />
easy to hear a pounding dance and voodooistic cries in Ionisation, and the cataclysmic<br />
ending could certainly be interpreted as apocalypse. Generally, analysts have emphasized<br />
the importance <strong>of</strong> rhythmic cells in Ionisation, but a regular pulse that appears in several<br />
large sections is what drives the piece forward; what might be described as a “pounding<br />
dance.” Notably, such a steady pulse is missing in Varèse’s prior works that rely heavily<br />
on percussion: Hyperprism, Intégrales, and Arcana. Evidently, Wallingford Riegger<br />
thought Ionisation expressed a return to the primitive, when he used a recording <strong>of</strong> the<br />
work in a dance composition in 1937. <strong>The</strong> work, presented in its entirety, formed the<br />
climax <strong>of</strong> Riegger’s piece, and was said to express “the survival <strong>of</strong> society out <strong>of</strong> a state<br />
41 Varèse: Composer, Sound Sculptor, Visionary, 226. Originally printed in A.S. Eddington, Stars and<br />
Atoms (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1927): 17.<br />
42 Varèse: Composer, Sound Sculptor, Visionary, 226.<br />
43 Letter from Varèse to Louise Varèse, Divonnes-les-Bains, July 15, 1930. Quoted in Olivia Mattis,<br />
“Edgard Varèse and the Visual Arts,” (Dissertation: Stanford University, 1992), 181.<br />
34
<strong>of</strong> decadence and collapse.” 44 Nevertheless, scholars have traditionally not made much <strong>of</strong><br />
this interpretation, choosing instead to hear Ionisation as a precursor to Varèse’s later<br />
electronic music. I have chosen to discuss Ionisation not only because it was one <strong>of</strong> the<br />
first and most noteworthy percussion ensemble works in western music but also because<br />
it positions a neo-primitivist aesthetic (evident in its borrowing <strong>of</strong> folk instruments and<br />
rhythms) within an ultramodern idiom. <strong>The</strong> result is a universal exoticism that, unlike<br />
Stravinsky’s Rite or Roldán’s Rítmicas, is not located in a particular time or place.<br />
Universalizing <strong>of</strong>ten went hand in hand with ultramodern practices. Percussionist<br />
Steven Schick’s recent analysis <strong>of</strong> Ionisation argues for multiculturalism in the work as<br />
well as the notion that “western percussion practice was home to the instruments and<br />
sounds <strong>of</strong> all cultures.” 45<br />
New percussion sounds . . . outlined a rapidly evolving social paradigm. In many<br />
ways the young composers who explored the terra incognita <strong>of</strong> percussion music<br />
fit neatly into traditional Emersonian views <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> individuality and<br />
transcendence. Possibilities were meant to be explored; definitions <strong>of</strong> culture and<br />
society were meant to be inclusive and universalizing. . . . An artistic<br />
representation <strong>of</strong> America and <strong>American</strong>s as singular and monolithic was simply<br />
no longer possible. 46<br />
Varèse’s inclusive, universalizing tendencies are on display in Ionisation, which borrows<br />
percussion instruments from several different music cultures. Schick, through his analysis<br />
<strong>of</strong> multicultural elements, argues in favor <strong>of</strong> hearing Ionisation as a “percussive tower <strong>of</strong><br />
Babel,” truly the music <strong>of</strong> a culture comprised <strong>of</strong> diverse immigrant groups. 47 <strong>The</strong><br />
analysis included combining instruments into “groups <strong>of</strong> affinity,” or subsets <strong>of</strong><br />
44 John Martins, “Festival Dancers Appear in ‘Trend’: Bennington Group Executes a New Kind <strong>of</strong><br />
Composition by Hanya Holm, Large Crowd Applauds.” <strong>The</strong> New York Times August 14, 1937.<br />
45 Steven Schick, <strong>The</strong> Percussionist’s Art: Same Bed, Different Dreams. (Rochester, NY: University <strong>of</strong><br />
Rochester Press, 2006): 36 (His emphasis).<br />
46 Ibid.<br />
47 Ibid., 37. In this sense Ionisation echoes Fritz Lang’s acclaimed 1927 film Metropolis, the grim portrayal<br />
<strong>of</strong> an industrial future civilization. Lang claimed that his inspiration for Metropolis, for which the set<br />
design included a tower <strong>of</strong> Babel modeled after Pieter Brueghel the Elder’s 1563 painting, came directly<br />
from a widely publicized visit to New York in 1924. Metropolis was shown at the Rialto <strong>The</strong>atre in New<br />
York in March 1928.<br />
35
instruments with conspicuous similarities <strong>of</strong> timbre. 48 He describes three groups <strong>of</strong><br />
affinity in the eight-measure introduction: “secco,” “resonant,” and “modified attack.”<br />
<strong>The</strong>se subsets account for differences that are rooted in the multicultural sources <strong>of</strong> the<br />
instruments. Schick calls secco instruments “dry sonorities used primarily for the<br />
articulation <strong>of</strong> rhythm”; in the first eight measures these are bass and snare drums.<br />
Resonant instruments include tam-tams, gong, low bass drum, and crash cymbals, or<br />
instruments used for non-rhythmic ringing sounds. Finally, the modified attack group<br />
consists <strong>of</strong> instruments that “depart in some way from a straightforward stroke.” <strong>The</strong>se<br />
include maracas, güiro, sirens, and friction drum. <strong>The</strong> crux <strong>of</strong> the work, according to<br />
Schick, is that these group identities become increasingly fluid as the instruments blend<br />
and develop new “behaviors,” such as taking up each other’s rhythmic patterns. Schick<br />
reads this phenomenon as the instruments speaking each other’s languages.<br />
In 1977 Chou Wen-Chung presented his analysis <strong>of</strong> Ionisation in a lecture at the<br />
City University <strong>of</strong> New York. His essential thesis was that in the absence <strong>of</strong> exact pitch<br />
in the work, timbre exerts primary control over structure. He concluded that the germinal<br />
rhythmic ideas presented in the work come from the qualities <strong>of</strong> the instruments<br />
themselves and the typical techniques used to play them. Chou <strong>of</strong>fered measures 9-12 as<br />
an example <strong>of</strong> “typical snare-drum stick techniques.” 49 One question that arises from<br />
such an analysis is: From what performance context did Varèse draw these “typical<br />
snare-drum stick techniques”? We are given a hint when Chou labels measures 9-12 the<br />
“parade-drum passage,” though the audience is given no other indication to hear this<br />
passage literally as a military or parade band (see Example 1.7). <strong>The</strong> rhythmic cells that<br />
we might recognize as characteristic patterns are out <strong>of</strong> context, and they are soon<br />
subjected to fragmentation and development. Later in the piece, these cells become<br />
combined in such a way that obscures any one rhythm or timbre.<br />
48 Schick, 40.<br />
49 Chou Wen-chung, “Ionisation: <strong>The</strong> Function <strong>of</strong> Timbre in Its Formal and Temporal Organization.” in<br />
<strong>The</strong> New Worlds <strong>of</strong> Edgard Varèse: A Symposium ed. Sherman van Solkema. I.S.A.M. Monographs, 11<br />
(New York: Institute for Studies in <strong>American</strong> Music, 1979).<br />
36
Example 1.7. Ionisation, mm. 9-12 Snare drum in “Parade drum passage”<br />
While Roldán deconstructed popular Afro-Cuban rhythms, they were still recognizable<br />
and in their own local context. Varèse, on the other hand, by defamiliarizing exotic<br />
instruments and rhythms, blended local elements into a universal melting pot. <strong>The</strong><br />
discussion that follows focuses specifically on the Latin <strong>American</strong> elements in Ionisation.<br />
One musical culture that was conspicuously present in Paris while Varèse was<br />
composing Ionisation was that <strong>of</strong> Cuba, and his use <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban instruments (bongos,<br />
güiro, claves, and maracas) lends the work a sense <strong>of</strong> neo-primitiveness. Varèse’s interest<br />
in these instruments is usually attributed to a curiosity about their timbral qualities, but he<br />
learned about them through his interactions with Caribbean intellectuals and artists in<br />
Paris. Varèse met the Cuban writer Alejo Carpentier in Paris in the autumn <strong>of</strong> 1928,<br />
though Carpentier had been fascinated by Varèse’s music since hearing Chávez conduct<br />
Octandre in Mexico in 1926. 50 Carpentier was a founding member <strong>of</strong> the grupo de<br />
avance, a movement in Cuba that recognized in Afro-Cubanism a nationally specific<br />
culture and a route to international modernism independent <strong>of</strong> outside (European or<br />
Yankee) control. Participants in the grupo de avance were fascinated by the ritual<br />
drumming <strong>of</strong> members <strong>of</strong> Abakuá, an Afro-Cuban secret society. Carpentier himself<br />
experimented with Abakuá themes. One result was “Poemas Afrocubanos,” his<br />
collaboration with Cuban composer Alejandro García Caturla that premiered in Paris in<br />
1929. Carpentier had brought with him to Paris several <strong>of</strong> Roldán’s scores, including El<br />
milagro de Anaquille and La rebambaramba, which he showed to Varèse and Heitor<br />
Villa-Lobos. At a 1929 concert in the Salle Gaveau, Varèse’s Intègrales shared the<br />
program with Roldán’s Danza negra. Carpentier, Villa-Lobos, and Varèse attended this<br />
concert together. Carpentier wrote to Roldán that after hearing Danza negra both Varèse<br />
and Villa-Lobos wished to meet him and that Varèse was particularly interested in<br />
50 Caroline Rae, “In Havana and Paris: <strong>The</strong> Musical Activities <strong>of</strong> Alejo Carpentier,” Music and Letters<br />
(July 2008), 378.<br />
37
Roldán’s use <strong>of</strong> percussion. 51 According to Carpentier, Varèse studied Roldán’s<br />
techniques <strong>of</strong> notating Afro-Cuban percussion at the same time he was writing<br />
Ionisation. 52<br />
What might Varèse have known about the characteristic performance techniques<br />
<strong>of</strong> the Afro-Cuban instruments he included in Ionisation? He had used the güiro in<br />
Arcana (1927), but Ionisation was the first work in which he employed cowbell, bongos,<br />
claves, and maracas. <strong>The</strong> güiro is introduced in measures 25-30 with one <strong>of</strong> its most<br />
characteristic rhythms in Afro-Cuban music: long, short, short (Example 1.8a). Notice<br />
that despite Varèse’s note groupings the audible rhythm is still long, short, short. This is a<br />
rhythmic cell that becomes reversed in its next appearance in measure 28, in Example<br />
1.8b. Just to drive home that the rhythm is now short, short, long, the listener hears<br />
“short-short-long, short-short-long, short-short-long-long-long.” This cell is further<br />
developed in the güiro’s solo in measures 35-37 (Example 1.8c). By removing the timbre<br />
<strong>of</strong> the güiro from its Latin <strong>American</strong> context and subjecting its characteristic rhythm to<br />
the process <strong>of</strong> development, Varèse successfully fulfilled Roldán’s desire that the rhythm<br />
<strong>of</strong> the güiro “not always recall a rumba.”<br />
Example 1.8a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation m. 26 (long, short, short)<br />
51 Zoila Gomez. Amadeo Roldán, 70.<br />
52 Alejo Carpentier, “Varèse vivant,” (Paris: Le Nouveau Commerce, 1980): 21. <strong>The</strong>se techniques included<br />
using a diamond-shaped note head to signal the performer to strike the center <strong>of</strong> the drum or an x note head<br />
to strike the edge. While Varèse used x note heads to signify special effects in Ionisation, other composers,<br />
such as Milhaud in his Concerto for Percussion, used x’s also. <strong>The</strong>re is no evidence to suggest that Varèse<br />
borrowed Roldán’s percussion notation techniques.<br />
38
Example 1.8b. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, mm. 28-29 (short, short, long)<br />
Example 1.8c. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation mm. 34-37 Güiro “solo” and rhythmic elaboration.<br />
Another instrument in Ionisation that is reminiscent <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban music is the<br />
friction drum, or lion’s roar. Varèse had employed a friction drum in three pieces prior to<br />
Ionisation: Hyperprism, Intégrales, and Arcana. It is most prominently featured,<br />
however, in Ionisation, where it sounds like the Afro-Cuban ekué. Also called bongó<br />
ekué, this is the single-headed friction drum sacred to Abakuá. <strong>The</strong> sound <strong>of</strong> the ekué is<br />
meant to imitate a leopard’s roar and may have been the source for Varèse’s “voodooistic<br />
cries” from his unfinished work <strong>The</strong>-One-All-Alone. Cuban popular musicians in the late<br />
1920s who were initiates <strong>of</strong> Abakuá <strong>of</strong>ten reproduced this roar on their secular bongós. 53<br />
A similar-sounding roar performed by the friction drum appears in Ionisation most<br />
prominently at measures 45-47 and 85-88 (mm. 45-47 are shown in Example 1.9a). For<br />
the sake <strong>of</strong> comparison, Example 1.9b shows the bongó performing a roar in Roldán’s<br />
Rítmica No. 5.<br />
53 One recorded example from 1928 is Sexteto Habanero’s “Tres Lindas Cubanas.”<br />
39
Example 1.9a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, Lion’s (leopard’s?) roar, (player 5, Tambour á corde), mm 45-<br />
47.<br />
40
Example 1.9b. Amadeo Roldán, Rítmica No. 5, mm. 14-18, Bongo glissando (first staff <strong>of</strong> second system).<br />
Due to their chronological proximity, the Rítmicas and Ionisation have <strong>of</strong>ten shared the<br />
distinction <strong>of</strong> being recognized as the first percussion ensemble works. <strong>The</strong> similarities,<br />
however, extend beyond mere chronology. Both composers employed Afro-Cuban<br />
instruments. Both works contain complex polyrhythms and emphasize timbre and rhythm<br />
rather than melody and harmony. Perhaps most importantly, both transform folk rhythms<br />
and timbres in order to allow them to participate in international modernism.<br />
Cowell developed yet another model for transforming local musical elements into<br />
a cosmopolitan or universal modernism. From October through December 1931, he<br />
traveled to Berlin “with the object <strong>of</strong> proving that there is but one foundation for all<br />
music, whether Oriental, Occidental, Classic or Modern.” 54 Cowell was to study with<br />
Erich von Hornbostel, but documents in his collected papers suggest that he never<br />
worked directly with the renowned ethnomusicologist. In fact, with the exception <strong>of</strong><br />
54 Not signed, “Seeking the Basis <strong>of</strong> Music,” Musical Courier (October 3, 1931), 22.<br />
41
listening to recordings <strong>of</strong> world music and a few lessons with Indian musician P.<br />
Sambamoorthy, there is little evidence that illuminates Cowell’s actual investigations into<br />
universal musical principles. 55 Instead, his correspondence from those three months is<br />
filled with details <strong>of</strong> ambitious plans for PAAC concerts in Barcelona, Berlin, Brno,<br />
Budapest, Madrid, Prague, Stockholm, and Vienna. 56 Cowell did, however, leave the<br />
Phonogramm Archiv in Berlin with the understanding that “nearly all primitive music has<br />
rapid rhythmical changes, syncopations, polyrhythms, and cross-rhythms. . . . [and] there<br />
is considerable use <strong>of</strong> vocal slides.” 57 He returned to New York with a broader<br />
understanding <strong>of</strong> the applicability <strong>of</strong> various world musics to modern musical<br />
composition. His new purpose was to “draw on those materials common to the music <strong>of</strong><br />
all the peoples <strong>of</strong> the world to build a new music particularly related to our own<br />
century.” 58 Cowell’s new transethnicism reflected a desire to combat the spread <strong>of</strong> French<br />
neo-classicism in modern music (something he wrote was “easy to compose, easy to<br />
understand, [and] easy to forget” 59 ). He would attempt this with a broader sense <strong>of</strong> what<br />
constituted classic elements through the discovery and application <strong>of</strong> musical materials<br />
common to various western and non-western musics. Cowell was not alone in conflating<br />
classicism with universalism and attempting to distinguish both from European-based<br />
neo-classical styles. Paul Rosenfeld, in a description <strong>of</strong> Chávez’s music, wrote in 1929:<br />
Chávez writes an actual classic music; a music that is original and <strong>American</strong> . . .<br />
This classicism does not parallel the return toward the past <strong>of</strong> that <strong>of</strong> several<br />
eminent Europeans. It is not the product <strong>of</strong> a sudden “conversion” . . . We do not<br />
find him genuflecting before the works <strong>of</strong> Johann Sebastian Bach; and his art<br />
55 Sambamoorthy was the Chair <strong>of</strong> the Department <strong>of</strong> Music at Queen Mary’s College in Madras (now<br />
Chennai), India. He was in Germany in 1931 to study violin, flute, and musicology.<br />
56 <strong>The</strong> PAAC’s European tours are discussed in chapter three.<br />
57 Cowell, “Towards Neo-Primitivism,” 152. Cowell’s time in Berlin seems to have only confirmed his<br />
notions about universals in music. He had previously discussed all <strong>of</strong> these musical elements, especially<br />
regarding rhythm, in his New Musical Resources (written in 1919; revised and published in 1930). He<br />
returned from Europe in early 1932 with a new transethnicism.<br />
58 Ibid., 151.<br />
59 Ibid., 150.<br />
42
coquettes neither with academies nor other agencies <strong>of</strong> “order.” Classicism with<br />
him is an involuntary footing. 60<br />
Cowell would not apply this new understanding <strong>of</strong> classic principles to his own<br />
compositions, however, until at least fall 1933, when he began teaching world music at<br />
the New School for Social Research in New York City. His courses had titles such as<br />
“Music Systems <strong>of</strong> the World,” (fall 1933) “Primitive and Folk Origins <strong>of</strong> Music,” (fall<br />
1934 and 1935) and “<strong>The</strong>ory and Practice <strong>of</strong> Rhythm,” (fall 1935). 61 <strong>The</strong>se classes<br />
introduced world music and novel uses <strong>of</strong> rhythm and timbre to the young John Cage,<br />
among others. 62<br />
Cowell most likely began composing his first work for percussion ensemble at the<br />
same time he was teaching “Music Systems <strong>of</strong> the World” in fall 1933. This work,<br />
completed in 1934 and eventually titled Ostinato Pianissimo, represents Cowell’s attempt<br />
to synthesize and distill world music elements in order to find new possibilities for<br />
modern music, especially in the new genre <strong>of</strong> percussion works. 63 Like Varèse, Cowell<br />
borrowed percussion instruments from different world musics. <strong>The</strong> Afro-Cuban bongos<br />
and güiro appear in Ostinato Pianissimo, as do Indian jalatarang (rice bowls) and gongs.<br />
Also like Varèse, Cowell deemed it necessary to recontextualize some <strong>of</strong> these borrowed<br />
instruments. Instead <strong>of</strong> altering the rhythms associated with them, as Varèse had done in<br />
Ionisation, Cowell broadened their timbral possibilities by calling for them to be played<br />
in uncharacteristic ways. <strong>The</strong> tambourine, for example, is played with the metal rattles<br />
removed, making it a high-pitched drum. <strong>The</strong> güiro is tapped with a wooden stick instead<br />
<strong>of</strong> played as a rasp. <strong>The</strong> strings <strong>of</strong> the piano are damped by the player’s hand and played<br />
60 Paul Rosenfeld, An Hour with <strong>American</strong> Music (Philadelphia, PA: Lippencott, 1929), 32.<br />
61 Course catalogs with detailed descriptions <strong>of</strong> each <strong>of</strong> these classes are located at <strong>The</strong> New School for<br />
Social Research. I would like to thank Archival Reference Director Carmen Hendershott for her help in<br />
locating them.<br />
62 Leta Miller has discussed the impact <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s world music teaching on Cage in “Henry Cowell and<br />
John Cage: Intersections and Influences, 1933-1941.” Journal <strong>of</strong> the <strong>American</strong> Musicological Society 59/1<br />
(Spring 2006), 47-112.<br />
63 H. Wiley Hitchcock covered many features <strong>of</strong> Ostinato Pianissimo in his article: “Henry Cowell’s<br />
Ostinato Pianissimo,” <strong>The</strong> Musical Quarterly 70/1 (Winter 1984), 23-44.<br />
43
on the keyboard. 64 Ostinato Pianissimo is scored for eight players covering two string<br />
pianos, eight rice bowls (arranged in order <strong>of</strong> pitch but not tuned to specific pitches),<br />
xylophone, two woodblocks, tambourine, güiro, a set <strong>of</strong> bongos, three (high, medium,<br />
and low) drums, and three (high, medium, and low) gongs.<br />
Most immediately apparent are the similarities <strong>of</strong> the texture <strong>of</strong> Ostinato<br />
Pianissimo to that <strong>of</strong> Indonesian gamelan music. <strong>The</strong> instruments are roughly ordered by<br />
pitch from low (gongs and drums) to medium (bongos, woodblocks, tambourine, and<br />
güiro) to high (string piano, rice bowls, and xylophone). As in a gamelan, each<br />
instrument’s pitch grouping corresponds to its pace. In 4/4, the low-pitched group moves<br />
in whole notes throughout the piece while the medium group moves in quarter notes and<br />
the higher instruments in eighth or sixteenth notes. <strong>The</strong> “ostinato” <strong>of</strong> the title refers to the<br />
fact that each instrument repeats its own pattern, in lengths ranging from four to fifteen<br />
measures, throughout the work. Although these ostinati occasionally align, they do not do<br />
so at structural moments as in an Indonesian gong cycle. Figure 1.3 is a diagram that<br />
shows the varying lengths <strong>of</strong> each ostinato and the plan <strong>of</strong> the overall work.<br />
Figure 1.3. Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo. Diagram <strong>of</strong> each ostinato with its coda (C).<br />
64 Cowell had become renowned for his “string piano” technique in 1923, when he performed Piece for<br />
Piano with Strings on his European concert tour.<br />
44
Rhythms and general direction <strong>of</strong> pitch movements remain constant in each repetition<br />
while melodies (in the pitched instruments) change slightly. Cowell also changed certain<br />
instruments’ accent patterns creating the illusion <strong>of</strong> different rhythms in each repetition.<br />
<strong>The</strong> first repetition <strong>of</strong> string piano 1, for example, contains a Brazilian clave embedded in<br />
the accent pattern (Example 1.10). 65 H. Wiley Hitchcock was thorough in his analysis <strong>of</strong><br />
the changes in each repetition. He found that though Cowell gave the appearance <strong>of</strong> an<br />
overall system for the work, the accent patterns and melodies in the repetitions were not<br />
governed by any particular set <strong>of</strong> rules. Cowell may have thought <strong>of</strong> them as sounding<br />
improvisatory or like a theme and variations.<br />
Example 1.10. Henry Cowell, Ostinato Pianissimo, mm. 14-17. Accents creating Brazilian clave.<br />
All this begs the question <strong>of</strong> what Cowell considered “classic” or universal about<br />
such an arrangement <strong>of</strong> musical elements. As a music historian and critic, he is not likely<br />
to have missed the fact that the stratification <strong>of</strong> instruments by both pitch register and<br />
frequency <strong>of</strong> attack recall the slow-moving tenor and faster upper parts <strong>of</strong> medieval<br />
organum. Similarly, the separate elements that repeat at different rates evoke the non-<br />
alignment <strong>of</strong> the color and talea <strong>of</strong> isorhythmic motet. Taken as a whole, the work is<br />
almost a theme and variations, except that each instrument has its own theme and its<br />
variations do not align temporally with those <strong>of</strong> other instruments. At the very least,<br />
Cowell would have acknowledged that repetition is the simplest and most ubiquitous<br />
structural principle in music <strong>of</strong> any culture.<br />
Other features that may be considered classic on a world scale include<br />
interlocking rhythms, also a feature <strong>of</strong> Indonesian gamelan music, which Cowell<br />
understood as a type <strong>of</strong> rhythmic counterpoint, a canon figure that appears in the bongos<br />
starting in m. 53, and perpetual motion, which pervades the entire work. <strong>The</strong> piece also<br />
65 Brazilian clave is only slightly different from Cuban son and rumba claves. It is used to keep time in<br />
samba and bossa nova.<br />
45
exhibits gradual development. Intensity builds with each few sets <strong>of</strong> repetitions as<br />
instruments enter, adding to the overall texture. As shown in Figure 1.3, rice bowls enter<br />
at m. 13, the second string piano at m. 27 and xylophone and bongos about halfway<br />
through the piece. Smaller subdivisions <strong>of</strong> beats in the upper and middle registers, as<br />
running sixteenth notes replace eighth notes, begin at about the halfway point in m. 40<br />
and continue to the work’s climax.<br />
Ostinato Pianissimo exhibits Cowell’s long-time interest in combining universal<br />
musical principles and radically expanded timbral palettes. It also represents an<br />
intersection <strong>of</strong> neo-classical and exotic tendencies in modern music. Cowell was not<br />
alone, however, in his attempt to create a new version <strong>of</strong> neo-classicism with a broader<br />
understanding <strong>of</strong> what musical elements could be included in that exercise. Other<br />
composers in the Americas were reinterpreting common-practice forms by applying them<br />
to a percussion ensemble. One <strong>of</strong> the most popular <strong>of</strong> these forms for experimentation in<br />
percussion music was the prelude and fugue.<br />
Russell’s biographer, Don Gillespie, noted that “by the winter <strong>of</strong> 1931-32,<br />
[Russell] was hard at work on a percussion fugue, perhaps choosing the baroque form in<br />
deference to his recent academic training.” 66 In fact, by 1931 Russell had become<br />
acquainted with Cowell who was teaching modern composition at the New School.<br />
Cowell’s New Musical Resources had been published the previous year, and Russell’s<br />
Fugue provides strong evidence that he was familiar with the compositional ideas Cowell<br />
presented there. Tone clusters, the subdivision <strong>of</strong> measures into unconventional rhythmic<br />
units, and experimentation with rhythms all appear in Russell’s Fugue. He was likely also<br />
aware <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s work with “dissonant counterpoint,” the inversion <strong>of</strong> rules <strong>of</strong><br />
common-practice counterpoint in which consonances resolve to dissonances. Russell’s<br />
Fugue, in which a rhythmic theme behaves as a fugal subject and timbre usurps the role<br />
<strong>of</strong> harmony, is a similar subversion <strong>of</strong> a common-practice precompositional system.<br />
Moreover, the idea to compose a prelude and fugue for percussion may have<br />
come from Cowell. Counterpoint expressed using percussion instruments had been on his<br />
mind for some time. After attending Béla Bartók’s performance <strong>of</strong> his Piano Concerto<br />
66 Don Gillespie, “William Russell: <strong>American</strong> Percussion Composer” Southern Quarterly 36/2 (Winter<br />
1998): 35-55.<br />
46
No. 1 conducted by Fritz Reiner with the Cincinnati Orchestra on February 13, 1928,<br />
Cowell lauded the “new loveliness revealed in each succeeding measure, and<br />
counterpoint <strong>of</strong> lines formed by percussion instruments, which were used canonically.” 67<br />
Russell attended Cowell’s composition classes at the New School and formed friendships<br />
with several <strong>of</strong> the composers who participated in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong>, such as<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Carl Ruggles, Ruth Crawford, and Charles Seeger. He wrote a<br />
compositional credo in 1934, probably at Cowell’s suggestion, which demonstrated that<br />
he had absorbed Cowell’s compositional ideas regarding timbral and rhythmic<br />
development. Compare, for example, excerpts <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s article “<strong>The</strong> Impasse <strong>of</strong><br />
Modern Music” and Russell’s “Memo”:<br />
If we are blocked by the limitation <strong>of</strong> our instruments from further steps in<br />
harmony, we can only turn for progress to the other elements <strong>of</strong> music, to<br />
counterpoint, rhythm, tone clusters, and sliding tones. Varèse . . . has narrowed<br />
the interest <strong>of</strong> his compositions to rhythm and the tone quality <strong>of</strong> the percussions.<br />
(Cowell, “<strong>The</strong> Impasse <strong>of</strong> Modern Music,” 1927). 68<br />
Development <strong>of</strong> rhythmic figures (<strong>of</strong>ten neglected in Western music) is more<br />
clearly and easily produced with percussion instruments than any others. . . .<br />
Many <strong>of</strong> the “new” sounds I use are not original with me. Some are taken from<br />
Oriental and other extra-European musics. Others I have learned from watching<br />
jazz drummers. (Russell, “Memo,” 1934). 69<br />
Having finished Fugue in January 1932, Russell sent it to Cowell, who received it<br />
enthusiastically. Cowell also likely made a few suggestions. On April 15 Russell wrote to<br />
him, “Enclosed is the revised copy <strong>of</strong> my ‘Fugue for Eight Percussion Instruments.’ I did<br />
not change the episode at the end <strong>of</strong> the exposition, for although it may not be strictly<br />
polyphonic in nature, I still feel it as a ‘broadening out’ <strong>of</strong> the subject, in one voice or<br />
67 Henry Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual: An Encyclopedia <strong>of</strong> Current Events, ed. A.H.<br />
MacDannald (New York: <strong>American</strong>a Corporation, 1929).<br />
68 Henry Cowell, “<strong>The</strong> Impasse <strong>of</strong> Modern Music: Searching for New Avenues <strong>of</strong> Beauty” Century 114/6<br />
(Oct 1927) 671-677.<br />
69 From “Notes on Percussion Compositions,” Unpublished manuscript in William Russell Collection,<br />
Historic New Orleans Collection. Quoted in Gillespie, 42-43.<br />
47
unison.” 70 Cowell replied on April 23, “I am so glad to have your score, and will use it as<br />
soon as I can. It looks very good in the new form.” 71<br />
Cowell did use Russell’s Fugue, and it premiered, along with Varèse’s Ionisation,<br />
on a PAAC concert <strong>of</strong> March 6, 1933. 72 In some ways, Fugue is constructed like a<br />
conventional eighteenth-century tonal fugue except that it cleverly accommodates non-<br />
pitched as well as pitched percussion instruments. Russell described his work as “a fugal<br />
development <strong>of</strong> a rhythmic subject and counter-subject, applying some <strong>of</strong> the<br />
conventional contrapuntal devices to rhythmic themes.” 73 <strong>The</strong> instrumentation includes<br />
snare drum, xylophone, timpani, piano, triangle, cymbals, bells, and bass drum. A brief<br />
explanation <strong>of</strong> the beginning <strong>of</strong> the exposition shows how the piece is constructed.<br />
<strong>The</strong> rhythmic subject <strong>of</strong> the Fugue is an eight-measure series <strong>of</strong> accelerated time<br />
values (Example 1.11). To simplify notation <strong>of</strong> the subject, Russell wrote the piece in 1/1.<br />
His division <strong>of</strong> the fundamental beat answered Cowell’s complaint in “Impasse” that<br />
composers typically “limit ourselves to half notes, quarters, eighths, and further division<br />
by halves, but we do not divide by thirds, fifths, sevenths or ninths.” 74<br />
Example 1.11. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 1-8. Subject.<br />
A fugal answer, tonally centered on B, occurs in the xylophone in m. 9, while the snare<br />
drum presents a countersubject: a rhythmic pattern that uses accents to produce a two-<br />
70 Letter from William Russell to Henry Cowell, April 15, 1932. Cowell Papers.<br />
71 Gillespie, 37.<br />
72 This concert is discussed further in Chapter 2.<br />
73 Russell, “Notes on Percussion Compositions.” Unpublished ms. in Russell Collection, Historic New<br />
Orleans Collection. Quoted in Gillespie, 37.<br />
74 Cowell, “Impasse,” 676. In his piano solo Fabric (1922) Cowell devised a system for notating unusual<br />
divisions <strong>of</strong> a beat using differently shaped noteheads.<br />
48
against-three cross-rhythm (Example 1.12). Compare this technique to Cowell’s use <strong>of</strong><br />
accented notes to embed a Brazilian clave in running eighth notes (Example 1.10).<br />
Example 1.12. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 9-16. Answer in xylophone and countersubject in snare drum<br />
with accented rhythm.<br />
In the next statement (mm. 17-24) a pair <strong>of</strong> timpani reproduces the answer <strong>of</strong> the<br />
xylophone transposed up a fifth to F#. <strong>The</strong> right hand <strong>of</strong> the piano states the subject in<br />
mm. 25-32. This time the subject is accompanied (in the left hand) by its own<br />
countersubject, which is derived from the fugal answer presented in the xylophone (the<br />
first note <strong>of</strong> each measure: A#, F, A, C#, G#, F#, B.) This countersubject appears<br />
throughout the fugue in all <strong>of</strong> the pitched instruments. Russell’s piece contains such<br />
traditional contrapuntal devices as the diminution <strong>of</strong> the rhythmic subject (m. 95), a<br />
stretto passage (mm. 123-130), and the retrograde <strong>of</strong> the subject (m. 131). <strong>The</strong> following<br />
diagram illustrates the overall formal structure <strong>of</strong> this percussion fugue (Figure 1.4).<br />
Figure 1.4. William Russell, Fugue. Form diagram showing the subject (S), answer (A), countersubject<br />
(CS), and retrograde (R).<br />
49
Fugue also demonstrates Cowell’s influence on Russell in his experimentation with new<br />
timbres and extended techniques. In the piano part Russell calls for novel techniques<br />
including the scratching <strong>of</strong> the strings “lengthwise along winding [coil], with a coin held<br />
like a banjo pick” (mm. 47-54); glissandi with a fingernail on the strings (mm. 55-70);<br />
muffling the strings spanning the octave A2 to A1 with the right hand while playing that<br />
octave as a tone cluster with the left hand (mm. 100-108); and playing all the white keys<br />
between G and B as a tone cluster with the right forearm (mm. 123-40). Other<br />
instruments require the use <strong>of</strong> various mallets and a wire brush, placing a piece <strong>of</strong> paper<br />
over the snare drum head at m. 55, drawing a double bass bow across the edge <strong>of</strong> a<br />
xylophone bar at m. 70, and various hand-muffled notes in several instrument parts.<br />
Notably absent from this piece, however, are non-western percussion instruments<br />
or rhythms. At the time Russell composed his Fugue in 1931 Cowell had not begun<br />
teaching world music, and he had yet to travel to Berlin’s Phonogramm Archiv. Russell<br />
would not encounter Haitian drumming until August 1932, and it was not until 1935 that<br />
he became enchanted with the Cuban instruments presented in Cowell New School class.<br />
This work, therefore, does not present a distillation <strong>of</strong> elements drawn from various<br />
world musics, as does Ostinato Pianissimo. It does, however, demonstrate that many <strong>of</strong><br />
the rhythmic devices Cowell used in Ostinato (such as cross-rhythms and rhythms<br />
embedded in accents) came not from his study <strong>of</strong> world musics but from his previous<br />
efforts to systematize modern musical composition, many <strong>of</strong> which he expounded in New<br />
Musical Resources. Excluding the exposition <strong>of</strong> Russell’s Fugue, the work sounds much<br />
like Ostinato Pianissimo in the sense that both works are based on themes, variations on<br />
those themes, and constant repetition. This suggests that Cowell’s study <strong>of</strong> world music<br />
did not furnish him with evidence <strong>of</strong> a “universal basis <strong>of</strong> music” but rather gave him<br />
new musical resources and new justifications for developing his previous theories<br />
regarding form, rhythm, and timbre.<br />
Fugue was composed less than a year after Varèse completed Ionisation. Gillespie<br />
maintains that Russell “had not the slightest knowledge” <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s new percussion<br />
work. 75 Varèse’s sojourn in Paris between 1928 and 1933 and the Fugue’s stylistic<br />
differences from Ionisation make it apparent that Russell did not have first-hand<br />
75 Gillespie, 38.<br />
50
knowledge <strong>of</strong> it. Certainly, the same new idea may emerge simultaneously in different<br />
places. Cuban composer José Ardévol, however, wrote a prelude and fugue for<br />
percussion in direct response to a PAAC performance <strong>of</strong> Ionisation in Havana in April<br />
1933.<br />
Ardévol (1911-1981) was born in Barcelona and studied piano, composition, and<br />
conducting with his father, Fernando Ardévol. Later he studied conducting with Hermann<br />
Scherchen and liberal arts at the University <strong>of</strong> Barcelona. He became acquainted with the<br />
young Cuban composer Alejandro García Caturla in Barcelona in 1929 and met Amadeo<br />
Roldán shortly after moving to Havana in December 1930 at age 19. Ardévol served as a<br />
teacher in various Cuban institutions, including the Havana conservatory and the National<br />
School <strong>of</strong> Music. He was an ardent supporter <strong>of</strong> the Cuban Revolution. Between 1922<br />
and his death in 1981 Ardévol wrote over eighty solo, chamber, and orchestral<br />
compositions, including three pieces for percussion ensemble: Estudio en forma de<br />
preludio y fuga (1933), Suite para instrumentos de percusión (1934), and Preludio a 11<br />
(1942).<br />
In an article on Ardévol’s Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga, Robert Falvo,<br />
pr<strong>of</strong>essor <strong>of</strong> percussion at Appalachian State University, mistakenly stated that Ardévol<br />
began composing Estudio in May 1930 and finished it on June 3, 1933. 76 In fact, the<br />
manuscript score in the Fleisher Collection contains the following notation in the<br />
composer’s hand (confirmed by his signature across the double bar): “principiado: 30/V.<br />
terminado: 3/VI/33. La Habana.” Following the international day/month/year date format,<br />
we may surmise that Ardévol composed the Estudio between May 30 and June 3, 1933, a<br />
period <strong>of</strong> only five days. Falvo’s error is understandable; it sounds implausible that such<br />
a technically sophisticated piece could be written in a short time. Ardévol’s ability to<br />
compose rapidly was, however, legendary among his students. His pupil Harold<br />
Gramatges noted, “he writes with amazing speed. Many <strong>of</strong> his works have been written in<br />
the space <strong>of</strong> one or two weeks.” 77<br />
76 Robert Falvo, “Uncovering a Historical Treasure: José Ardevol’s ‘Study in the Form <strong>of</strong> a Prelude and<br />
Fugue’ (1933).” Percussive Notes 45 (December 1999): 54-57.<br />
77 Harold Gramatges, “Nota Crítico Biográfica.” in Catalogo de obras de los compositores cubanos<br />
contemporáneos; No. 3, José Ardévol (La Habana: Conservatorio Municipal, 1946): 6.<br />
51
That the Estudio was composed in five days as opposed to three years is an<br />
important distinction. Nicolas Slonimsky had conducted the world premieres <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s<br />
Ionisation and Russell’s Fugue in the PAAC concert on March 6, 1933, in New York at<br />
the Carnegie Chapter Hall. 78 Seven weeks later, on April 30, he conducted Ionisation on<br />
one <strong>of</strong> two PAAC concerts in Havana, Cuba. 79 Alejo Carpentier recalled that when the<br />
Havana orchestra played Ionisation under Slonimsky, “the ovation was so enthusiastic<br />
that the conductor had to <strong>of</strong>fer on the spot a second performance.” 80 Ardévol was present<br />
at this concert; Slonimsky had included his fanfare Para despertar a un romántico<br />
cordial on the program. 81 Ardévol set about composing his first all-percussion work on<br />
May 30, exactly one month after the Havana premiere <strong>of</strong> Ionisation. Slonimsky, in his<br />
book Music Since 1900 (1938), highlighted an important comparison between Ionisation<br />
and the Estudio, perhaps unintentionally, when he wrote, “[In Cuba] I had conducted<br />
Ionization [sic] by Edgar Varèse, scored for instruments <strong>of</strong> percussion, friction, and<br />
sibilation.” 82 Slonimsky’s word choice here is not insignificant. Ardévol’s Estudio<br />
manuscript, dated 1933, contains the same words in the exact same order: “instrumentos<br />
de percusión, fricción y silbido.” Neither early manuscript copies nor published versions<br />
<strong>of</strong> Ionisation use that distinctive wording. Perhaps Slonimsky spoke <strong>of</strong> the<br />
instrumentation thus when he performed Ionisation in Havana in 1933.<br />
Ardévol was familiar with Roldán’s and Caturla’s compositions using Afro-<br />
Cuban percussion and rhythms. A fugal composition was even suggested by the canonic<br />
passage in Roldán’s Rítmica No. 5 (Example 1.4). Estudio is, however, stylistically more<br />
akin to Varèse’s works for percussion. In it, Ardévol employs claves, güiros, maracas,<br />
and bongos but also sirens, anvils, and a police whistle. Though he was closely associated<br />
78 This is actually the Carnegie Chapter Room; not one <strong>of</strong> the recital halls, but a meeting space for<br />
organizations above what is now Weill Recital Hall.<br />
79 <strong>The</strong> other concert was held on April 23. Both were at the Teatro Nacional in Havana.<br />
80 Alejo Carpentier, “Varèse vivant,” 22.<br />
81 This fanfare does not appear on the physical program located in the Cowell Papers. A complete list <strong>of</strong><br />
fanfares, some <strong>of</strong> which were composed specifically for this concert, is given in Appendix A.<br />
82 Nicolas Slonimsky, Music Since 1900, 340. He uses the same wording in Nicolas Slonimsky, Music in<br />
Latin America. (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1945): 5.<br />
52
with both Roldán and Caturla in the early 1930s, he took little interest in the set <strong>of</strong><br />
aesthetic goals that defined afrocubanismo. He was, however, receptive in these years to<br />
the universalist aesthetics promoted by Varèse and Cowell.<br />
<strong>The</strong> prelude and fugue in Estudio evoke established Baroque genres, but the use<br />
<strong>of</strong> the word “study” in the title suggests the exploratory nature <strong>of</strong> the percussion<br />
techniques and timbres contained in the work. <strong>The</strong> instrumentation <strong>of</strong> Estudio (in score<br />
order) is as follows: police whistle, 2 sirens (high, low), 2 claves, 3 güiros, maracas, 2<br />
whips (small and large), 3 hand clappers, triangle, 2 anvils (2 hammers for each one),<br />
small hand bell, 2 bells (high and low), cymbal (struck with mallet), cymbals, tam-tam,<br />
gong, small military drum, 2 snare drums, bongos, 2 African drums, Low African drum,<br />
small timpano, large timpano (both timpani with a loose membrane, such that there is no<br />
determined pitch), 2 bass drums, and 2 pianos. <strong>The</strong> use <strong>of</strong> many instruments <strong>of</strong><br />
indeterminate pitch intrinsically subverts a musical structure that is based on established<br />
pitch or tonal associations by substituting them with rhythmic relationships.<br />
One pitfall <strong>of</strong> any percussion ensemble work is the potential to muddle the very<br />
similar timbres. Ardévol solves this problem in much the same manner Varèse, Roldán,<br />
and Cowell did: by arranging the instruments into groups. In the prelude, Ardévol<br />
separated the instruments into two groups: high and low. <strong>The</strong> high group consists <strong>of</strong><br />
claves, güiros, maracas, whips, and hand clappers. <strong>The</strong> low group includes a military<br />
drum, two snare drums, three African drums, two timpani, and two bass drums.<br />
<strong>The</strong> prelude is also reminiscent <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s technique <strong>of</strong> using sound masses to<br />
create form. As in Ionisation, the opening exhibits direct exchanges <strong>of</strong> rhythms and<br />
textures between groups <strong>of</strong> instruments. In the passage from mm. 1-6, for example, the<br />
respective rhythms <strong>of</strong> the higher voices (claves and güiros) and the lower voices (timpani<br />
and bombos) are exchanged, as shown in Example 1.13a. Example 1.13b shows a series<br />
<strong>of</strong> accelerated time values in m. 5 that recalls Russell’s Fugue. In addition to hearing<br />
Ionisation twice on the PAAC concert in 1933 Ardevol may have seen the score <strong>of</strong><br />
Russell’s Fugue as well, since Slonimsky likely carried it to Havana.<br />
53
Example 1.13a. José Ardévol, Estudio, mm. 1-6.<br />
Example 1.13b. José Ardévol, Estudio, m. 5, second system. Accelerated time values as in Russell’s Fugue<br />
(shown in Example 1.11 above).<br />
Ardévol’s use <strong>of</strong> sound masses in Estudio is not the work’s only similarity to<br />
Ionisation. As in the beginning <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s work, Ardévol included sirens in the opening<br />
measures (Example 1.13a, top system). <strong>The</strong>se sliding pitches crescendo from piano to<br />
54
fortissimo 83 and are immediately followed by a long string <strong>of</strong> syncopated rhythms that<br />
suggest no definite meter. <strong>The</strong> fugue, like Ionisation, exhibits instruments grouped by<br />
timbral affinity. <strong>The</strong>se are organized by fugal voice, as in the following figure.<br />
Voice 1: Snare drums<br />
snare drum I (1-6)<br />
military drum (106-11)<br />
Voice 2: Small timpano and African drums<br />
African drum I, small timpano (7-12)<br />
African drum I, small timpano (51-56)<br />
African drums I and II, small timpano, piano I, high bell, tam-tam (81-92)<br />
Low African drum, small timpano (116-19)<br />
Voice 3: Large timpano and bombos<br />
large timpano, bombo I (15-20)<br />
large timpano, bombos I and II, gong, piano II (76-87)<br />
Voice 4: Claves, güiros, triangle<br />
claves, güiros, triangle, piano I (22-27)<br />
claves, güiros, triangle (43-48)<br />
claves, güiros, triangle (89-94)<br />
cymbal struck with stick (114-19)<br />
Figure 1.5. Estudio en forma de preludio y fuga, instrument groups (voices) in the fugue and the measures<br />
in which they appear.<br />
Ardévol, who wrote that his father had instilled in him an enormous appreciation<br />
<strong>of</strong> J. S. Bach, constructed a masterful fugal form in the absence <strong>of</strong> a tonal center and a<br />
melodic subject. <strong>The</strong> diagram in Figure 1.6 shows the overall structure, Ardévol’s use <strong>of</strong><br />
fugal augmentation and retrograde <strong>of</strong> the subject, and an extended stretto passage in mm.<br />
123-35.<br />
83 Perhaps not incidentally, Lou Harrison’s Fugue for Percussion Instruments (1941) begins with an<br />
identical gesture. Harrison’s and Ardevol’s works were both featured in Cage’s West Coast percussion<br />
concerts.<br />
55
Ardévol’s fugue subject, though notated in 6/8, seems to fit into no definite meter.<br />
An eighth rest at the beginning <strong>of</strong> the subject causes a series <strong>of</strong> syncopations and ties<br />
across barlines (shown in Example 1.14a). To facilitate the performance <strong>of</strong> the subject,<br />
Ardévol could have notated it in 4/4. Example 1.14b is a renotated version in 4/4.<br />
Example 1.14a. José Ardévol, Estudio . . . Fuga. Actual notation <strong>of</strong> rhythmic subject, mm. 1-6.<br />
Example 1.14b. José Ardévol, Estudio . . . Fuga. Rhythmic subject in 4/4 (my rewrite).<br />
In the original 6/8 version <strong>of</strong> the subject, a cinquillo rhythm begins on the downbeat <strong>of</strong> m.<br />
4 and ends on the downbeat <strong>of</strong> m. 5 (Example 1.15). <strong>The</strong> fact that this is the only<br />
recognizable rhythmic figure that is notated as it would characteristically appear suggests<br />
that the subject was conceived around this cinquillo, as if the purpose <strong>of</strong> the eighth rest at<br />
the beginning <strong>of</strong> the subject and the barline-crossing ties was to simplify or showcase a<br />
rhythm that was widely recognized as Cuban. <strong>The</strong> rest <strong>of</strong> the subject (mm. 5-6) that<br />
follows the cinquillo contains accents that fall on regular beats.<br />
Example 1.15. José Ardévol, Estudio . . . Fuga, mm. 4-5. Cinquillo.<br />
<strong>The</strong> fugue, far from including only Cuban elements, also incorporates three hand clappers<br />
(palmadas). <strong>The</strong> clappers evoke Spanish cante jondo or cante flamenco, genres <strong>of</strong> folk<br />
song from Andalusia and aural signifiers <strong>of</strong> Ardévol’s Spanish heritage. Manuel de Falla,<br />
a composer Ardévol greatly admired, had organized a tremendously successful contest <strong>of</strong><br />
cante jondo with Federico García Lorca in Granada on June 13 and 14, 1922. Ardévol<br />
would have been eleven years old, but in the following years he came to understand the<br />
significance <strong>of</strong> Falla’s endeavor to elevate cante jondo to the level <strong>of</strong> art music. Ardévol<br />
57
wrote in 1932, “I am convinced that Spanish music <strong>of</strong> today has no other remedy than to<br />
follow [Falla], despite the fact that it is very difficult; after what he has accomplished,<br />
how do you do something in the same direction that is worth the effort?” 84<br />
In Varèse’s Ionisation, Russell’s Fugue, and Ardévol’s fugue, the subject or<br />
primary thematic material is presented with a snare drum solo (Examples 1.16a, b, and c,<br />
respectively). Perhaps there is something about the timbre or the two-handed method <strong>of</strong><br />
playing <strong>of</strong> the snare drum that facilitates the articulation <strong>of</strong> complex rhythms.<br />
Example 1.16a. Edgard Varèse, Ionisation, mm. 8-12.<br />
Example 1.16b. William Russell, Fugue, mm. 1-8.<br />
Example 1.16c. José Ardévol, Estudio . . . fuga, mm. 1-6.<br />
Almost a decade after composing Estudio, Ardévol would promote a new<br />
approach to Cuban concert music by establishing among his pupils a new musical society<br />
called the Grupo de Renovación Musical, which denied the value <strong>of</strong> musical nationalism<br />
in favor <strong>of</strong> neoclassical and serial techniques. 85 An additional goal <strong>of</strong> the Grupo was to<br />
raise the level <strong>of</strong> musical composition in Cuba to international status. <strong>The</strong> group members<br />
embraced the work <strong>of</strong> Paul Hindemith and Benjamin Britten and tended to downplay the<br />
afrocubanism <strong>of</strong> the 1930s, effectively ending its influence on Cuban art music until the<br />
1960s. Ardévol is, therefore, primarily associated today with his rejection <strong>of</strong><br />
84 From a lecture delivered at Ardévol’s first recital <strong>of</strong> works in Cuba on April 7, 1932. Reprinted in José<br />
Ardevol, Musica y revolución (Havana: Contemporáneos, 1965), 63-68.<br />
85 Well-known composers associated with this group were Hilario Gonzalez, Julian Orbón, Harold<br />
Gramatges, and Gisela Hernandez.<br />
58
afrocubanism in favor <strong>of</strong> a Cuban nationalism that did not rely heavily on working-class<br />
genres such as son and rumba. His Estudio demonstrates that he was open to the<br />
ultramodern, universalist aims <strong>of</strong> certain U.S. composers in the 1930s. As he stated in a<br />
1956 interview:<br />
I have always been in agreement with the ideas <strong>of</strong> Roldán and Caturla, and I am<br />
convinced that they did what was most in accord with Cuban music at that<br />
moment. . . . In their last years, [however], both great teachers became aware . . .<br />
that our music could not reach its rightful place without obtaining three things: [1]<br />
cultivation <strong>of</strong> the great forms and incorporation <strong>of</strong> these into our music; [2]<br />
greater universal sense, that is, Cubanness with less localism and color, and [3]<br />
complete dominion <strong>of</strong> [compositional] technique as can be found in the<br />
composers <strong>of</strong> more advanced countries. 86<br />
It comes as no surprise, then, that a close investigation <strong>of</strong> Estudio demonstrates Ardévol’s<br />
sympathy with Cowell’s and Varèse’s universalist aesthetic.<br />
<strong>The</strong> catalog <strong>of</strong> Ardévol’s works published by the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> Union in 1955<br />
does not include Estudio, his later Suite, or any other works for percussion ensemble. A<br />
note that accompanies the list <strong>of</strong> works explains this omission: “<strong>The</strong> composer considers<br />
this list definitive. Many works in former catalogs do not appear here, either because the<br />
author has destroyed the manuscripts or because they were suppressed at the time <strong>of</strong> a<br />
general revision <strong>of</strong> his work in 1951.” 87 <strong>The</strong> percussion works do appear in a composition<br />
list from 1946 published by the Municipal Conservatory <strong>of</strong> Havana. 88 Ardévol’s<br />
reluctance to include Estudio in his definitive catalog is echoed by his silence on the<br />
86 José Ardevol. “Entrevista.” Avance (November 1956), 71. “Siempre he estado de acuerdo con las ideas<br />
de Roldán y Caturla, y estoy convencido de que en su momento hicieron lo que más convenía a la música<br />
cubana . . . En sus últimos años, ambos grandes maestros tenían conciencia . . . que nuestra música no podía<br />
conquistar el lugar a que estaba distinada sin lograr tres cosas: cultivo de las grandes formas e<br />
incorporación de éstas a nuestra música; mayor sentido universal, o sea, cubanía menos localista y<br />
pintoresca, y dominio tan completo de la técnica como pueda hallarse en los compositores de los países<br />
más avanzados.”<br />
87 <strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> the Americas: Biographical Data and Catalogs <strong>of</strong> <strong>The</strong>ir Works, Volume 1. (<strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
Union Music Section: Washington, D.C., 1955), 5.<br />
88 Catalogo de obras de los compositores cubanos contemporáneos; No. 3, José Ardévol (La Habana:<br />
Conservatorio Municipal, 1946).<br />
59
subject <strong>of</strong> his early percussion works in his later writings. 89 Ardévol likely viewed<br />
Estudio as an experiment with transposing fugal ideas to percussion music. <strong>The</strong> work is<br />
remarkably well constructed, however, in its formal design, rhythmic complexity and<br />
combinations <strong>of</strong> timbres.<br />
<strong>The</strong> percussion ensemble music <strong>of</strong> the 1930s demonstrated a vast potential for<br />
expressing a multiplicity <strong>of</strong> styles and aesthetics. <strong>The</strong> following chapter, which examines<br />
the early activity <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>, details efforts by<br />
members <strong>of</strong> that organization to institutionalize some <strong>of</strong> the practices outlined in this<br />
chapter.<br />
89 <strong>The</strong>re is also no mention <strong>of</strong> these works in a collection <strong>of</strong> his critical writings: José Ardevol, Musica y<br />
revolución.<br />
60
CHAPTER 2<br />
ORGANIZING THE HEMISPHERE: THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF<br />
COMPOSERS (1928-1934)<br />
In an interview with Rita Mead in 1974 Nicolas Slonimsky (1894-1995) recalled<br />
that the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> was “just a tag. . . . there was a group<br />
<strong>of</strong> people who didn’t have any money, didn’t have any resources, and they just<br />
floundered around there in New York. . . . <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> was just a word.” 1 Slonimsky’s<br />
recollections <strong>of</strong> a performance society that ceased to exist forty years earlier are echoed<br />
in his autobiography Perfect Pitch. By virtue <strong>of</strong> having been the PAAC’s <strong>of</strong>ficial<br />
conductor and surviving most <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Association</strong>’s members by thirty or more years,<br />
Slonimsky’s memories have shaped the historiography <strong>of</strong> the organization. His<br />
sentiments quoted above have reinforced perceptions that the PAAC was not a real<br />
organization but rather a loose collection <strong>of</strong> free agents who somehow managed to<br />
present a small handful <strong>of</strong> concerts with limited significance in the early 1930s. In fact,<br />
the PAAC functioned very differently than other New York-based modern music<br />
organizations, whose regular meetings and well-publicized concerts make it easier to<br />
assess their efficacy and influence. Despite the difficulties <strong>of</strong> piecing together evidence<br />
from correspondence, critical reviews and extant programs, a reevaluation <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s<br />
position in the fabric <strong>of</strong> modernist musical life in the 1930s is long overdue. Only Deane<br />
Root has attempted to compile the organization’s activities in an article published in 1972<br />
in which he identified nineteen performances. Counting performances in New York,<br />
Cuba, and Europe, however, some <strong>of</strong> which were co-sponsored by other performance<br />
1 Nicolas Slonimsky interview with Rita Mead, October 29, 1974. Henry Cowell Papers, JPB 00-03, Music<br />
Division, <strong>The</strong> New York Public Library for the Performing Arts.
societies, the PAAC presented at least thirty-eight concerts over five seasons and<br />
performed works by thirty-nine composers <strong>of</strong> the Americas. 2<br />
During the first two years <strong>of</strong> its existence the PAAC sponsored three small<br />
chamber concerts in New York; one each at Birchard Hall, Carnegie Chamber Hall, and<br />
the New School. <strong>The</strong>se events were largely neglected by critics and drew small<br />
audiences. <strong>The</strong> seasons <strong>of</strong> 1931 through 1934, however, marked a period <strong>of</strong> recognition<br />
for the society at home and abroad; its orchestral concerts in Havana, Paris, Madrid,<br />
Berlin, Dessau, Vienna, Prague, Budapest, and Hamburg were well publicized and widely<br />
reviewed. <strong>The</strong> European concerts are discussed in Chapter 3. This chapter focuses<br />
entirely on the early organizing efforts <strong>of</strong> the PAAC and the concerts in the United States<br />
and Cuba.<br />
Under the direction <strong>of</strong> Henry Cowell for most <strong>of</strong> its brief life, the PAAC<br />
functioned very differently from societies such as the International <strong>Composers</strong>’ Guild or<br />
the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>. Cowell ran the PAAC as he did his New Music Society <strong>of</strong><br />
California, which he founded in 1925; he organized all its activities on a shoestring<br />
budget provided mostly by Charles Ives. In this sense, under Cowell the PAAC became<br />
an East coast extension <strong>of</strong> New Music. In addition, many <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s concerts were<br />
co-sponsored by other performing organizations: chapters <strong>of</strong> the International Society for<br />
Contemporary Music in Havana and Prague, the Ibero-German Musical Society under<br />
director Guillermo Espinosa, and Lazare Saminsky’s Polyhymnia.<br />
Henry Cowell (1897-1965) was a Californian who was largely self-taught in<br />
music. In his late teens he studied composition with Charles Seeger, and in the early<br />
1920s he became famous as a concert pianist for his innovative pianistic style. Cowell’s<br />
brazen ultramodernism is evident in the tone clusters <strong>of</strong> pieces such as <strong>The</strong> Voice <strong>of</strong> Lir<br />
and Dynamic Motion and in his performance on the strings inside the piano as in his most<br />
famous piano piece, <strong>The</strong> Banshee. Concert tours in the United States and Europe between<br />
1923 and 1932 generated a great deal <strong>of</strong> media renown. 3 Cowell’s California-based New<br />
Music Society sponsored performances, publications, and recordings until it was<br />
2 For a complete list <strong>of</strong> concerts, see Appendix A. Appendix B contains a list <strong>of</strong> extant reviews <strong>of</strong> PAAC<br />
concerts.<br />
3 Information about Cowell’s early life and concert tours can be found in Michael Hicks, Henry Cowell,<br />
Bohemian (Chicago: University <strong>of</strong> Illinois Press, 2002).<br />
62
discontinued in 1958. A full assessment <strong>of</strong> his work as a modern music organizer has<br />
only recently been undertaken by Rita Mead, Leta Miller, and Kyle Gann. <strong>The</strong> present<br />
treatment <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, which considers how Cowell’s unconventional strategy <strong>of</strong><br />
inclusion led to both the successes and failures <strong>of</strong> the organization, contributes to the<br />
work already begun by these scholars.<br />
Members <strong>of</strong> the PAAC included several composers who had been active in the<br />
International <strong>Composers</strong>’ Guild. Edgard Varèse (1883-1965) used his influence to gather<br />
composers for a series <strong>of</strong> initial PAAC meetings. He nevertheless played a peripheral role<br />
in most <strong>of</strong> the society’s activities. Carlos Salzedo, who co-founded the I.C.G. with<br />
Varèse, was listed as an incorporating member <strong>of</strong> the PAAC. He did not, however, take<br />
an active part in its activities until the final season. Emerson Whithorne (1884-1958),<br />
<strong>American</strong> composer and pianist, was named vice president in the incorporation meeting<br />
but was not involved in any way after Cowell assumed the role <strong>of</strong> director.<br />
Adolph Weiss (1891-1971) and Wallingford Riegger (1885-1961) were active in<br />
both the New Music Society and the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong>. <strong>The</strong>y also maintained<br />
good relations with Pro Musica and the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>, on whose concerts their<br />
works were occasionally performed. Weiss was Arnold Schoenberg’s first <strong>American</strong><br />
pupil. Riegger, who adopted the twelve-tone idiom through his association with Weiss,<br />
later became well known for his dance compositions for Martha Graham, Doris<br />
Humphrey and Hanya Holm.<br />
Several members played crucial supporting roles in the organization. Charles Ives<br />
(1874-1954) was the oldest member and served as a patriarch who contributed much <strong>of</strong><br />
the financial support that kept the organization afloat through rough economic waters.<br />
Several <strong>of</strong> his most renowned works were premiered on PAAC concerts including Three<br />
Places in New England, <strong>The</strong> Fourth <strong>of</strong> July, and Set for <strong>The</strong>atre Orchestra. Nicolas<br />
Slonimsky, a Russian émigré polymath, conductor, and founder <strong>of</strong> the Boston Chamber<br />
Orchestra, helped organize and conduct the association’s concerts in New York, Havana,<br />
and Europe. <strong>The</strong> society’s most devoted Latin <strong>American</strong> members carried out their<br />
PAAC activities in Cuba. Pedro Sanjuán (1887-1976), a Spaniard who immigrated to<br />
Cuba in 1924, founded the Orquesta Filarmónica de la Habana. His pupils Amadeo<br />
Roldán (1900-1939) and Alejandro García Caturla (1906-1940) organized and executed<br />
63
their own PAAC concerts in Havana and Caibarién, respectively. Sanjuán, Roldán, and<br />
Caturla became associated with the PAAC through Cowell.<br />
Certain other Latin <strong>American</strong> composers were increasingly recognized in New<br />
York in the late 1920s, especially those who had studied in Europe. Works by Mexican<br />
Carlos Chávez, Uruguayan Eduardo Fabini, and Chilean Acario Cotapos, for example,<br />
were occasionally performed on I.C.G. and League concerts. As the works <strong>of</strong> all<br />
<strong>American</strong> composers had originally been excluded from the I.S.C.M.’s definition <strong>of</strong><br />
“contemporary” music, 4 Latin <strong>American</strong> composers were excluded from the<br />
<strong>American</strong>ism <strong>of</strong> the existing New York-based modern music societies. A new society<br />
was needed that maintained the internationalizing effects achieved by the I.C.G., the<br />
I.S.C.M., and the League but repositioned the East-West axis from North to South.<br />
From 1929 to 1936 Henry Cowell wrote the “Music” entries in <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a<br />
Annual: An Encyclopedia <strong>of</strong> Current Events. 5 Intended for a general audience but focused<br />
primarily on modern music, these articles illustrate an overall arc <strong>of</strong> activity for music<br />
organizations, composers, and concerts in the United States. <strong>The</strong>se essays also document<br />
Cowell’s strongly partisan opinions on the purposes and limitations <strong>of</strong> various modern<br />
music organizations and the music performed on their concerts. <strong>The</strong> 1935 volume, for<br />
example, noted that the “three main schools <strong>of</strong> modern creative music have their very<br />
definite champions: Hanson’s Festival at Rochester for those who wish to be neo-<br />
romantic, <strong>The</strong> League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> for those who wish to be neo-classical, and the <strong>Pan</strong><br />
<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> and New Music Society for those who wish to progress further<br />
into the experimentally new.” 6 Since the <strong>American</strong>a Annual was a general-interest<br />
publication it was probably not high on the reading lists <strong>of</strong> members <strong>of</strong> New York’s<br />
modern music circles. As such, it provided Cowell with a forum to comment on<br />
developments in modern music with impunity. <strong>The</strong> 1929 volume, which covers activities<br />
<strong>of</strong> the previous year, noted the birth <strong>of</strong> two new modern music organizations, the <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> and the Copland-Sessions concerts.<br />
4 As discussed in the Introduction.<br />
5 Henry Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual: An Encyclopedia <strong>of</strong> Current Events, ed. A.H.<br />
MacDannald (New York: <strong>American</strong>a Corporation, 1929-1936).<br />
6 Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual (1935), 474.<br />
64
. . . the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> plans a clearing house <strong>of</strong><br />
unpublished musical scores, so that conductors will know where to look for music<br />
by composers <strong>of</strong> all the Americas, and will sponsor performances <strong>of</strong> Latin-<br />
<strong>American</strong> works in the United States and North-<strong>American</strong> works in southern<br />
countries; and the Copland-Sessions concerts in New York will perform works by<br />
young and relatively unknown composers, even where they are not entirely<br />
perfected in style, for the purpose <strong>of</strong> making “discoveries” among the student<br />
talent. 7<br />
Almost completely ignoring the Copland-Sessions activities, Cowell then introduced<br />
members <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, devoting at least a paragraph to each: Carlos Chávez (“a young<br />
Mexican who writes in an indigenous style”), Adolph Weiss (“a student <strong>of</strong> Schoenberg . .<br />
. one <strong>of</strong> the principal exponents <strong>of</strong> the modern Teutonic school in America”), Charles<br />
Ives (“his Concord Sonata is a masterly welding <strong>of</strong> the improvisatory spirit <strong>of</strong> early<br />
<strong>American</strong> folk music into a moving and powerful structure”), Nicolas Slonimsky (who<br />
has “propounded through Boston concerts his interesting theory <strong>of</strong> building up a musical<br />
style using literally only concords”), Roy Harris (“a young <strong>American</strong> whose sincerity and<br />
personal fervor makes it possible for him to imbue rather sto[d]gy materials and<br />
academic form with new vitality”), and Dane Rudhyar (who “has many interesting<br />
theories concerning tone, one <strong>of</strong> which is that all tone complexes should be regarded as a<br />
unit”). 8 In the 1932 volume Cowell discussed the success <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s 1931 concerts in<br />
Paris, noting that reviewers commented on the fact “that here is a whole new world <strong>of</strong><br />
music with tendencies unknown to Europe; that America really proved it has something<br />
to say artistically.” In the same year the <strong>American</strong> chapter <strong>of</strong> the International Society for<br />
Contemporary Music had cooperated in the dissemination <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music in Europe<br />
by arranging a concert <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> works in Berlin. “Unfortunately,” wrote Cowell, “the<br />
works chosen were all <strong>of</strong> the same school: early works by Copland, Sessions, and<br />
Gruenberg” 9 (my italics). <strong>The</strong> implication is clear: that the I.S.C.M.’s <strong>American</strong> concert<br />
7 Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual (1929), 501.<br />
8 Ibid.<br />
9 Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual (1932), 570.<br />
65
in Berlin was unsuccessful in Cowell’s view because it presented only one perspective <strong>of</strong><br />
new <strong>American</strong> music.<br />
By contrast, the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> afforded Cowell the opportunity to<br />
present a wide variety <strong>of</strong> the <strong>American</strong> continent’s new compositional tendencies. For<br />
decades, the flow <strong>of</strong> musical culture had been in one direction: east to west, from Europe<br />
to the New World. Cowell and his associates in the PAAC attempted to reverse that flow<br />
through the sheer force <strong>of</strong> their collective difference. <strong>The</strong>y did not share a common set <strong>of</strong><br />
musical values. Some experimented with new musical resources; others used their<br />
European training as a point <strong>of</strong> departure. All <strong>of</strong> them, however, adopted a uniform pose<br />
to challenge European musical cultures they still revered yet considered outmoded.<br />
Evoking a utopian sense <strong>of</strong> unity by smoothing over difference, the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Association</strong> was more a political than an aesthetic enterprise, and its spirit was akin to its<br />
eponymous political counterpart, which stemmed from the Monroe Doctrine. 10 Not all its<br />
members would embrace this political message, however. Chávez and Revueltas, for<br />
example, engaged in alternative forms <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism based on affinities between<br />
Latin <strong>American</strong> and African <strong>American</strong> cultures. <strong>The</strong>se are discussed in Chapter 4.<br />
Early Organizing Efforts and the First Two Concerts, 1928-1930<br />
After the dissolution <strong>of</strong> the International <strong>Composers</strong>’ Guild in 1927, Varèse<br />
acknowledged the desirability <strong>of</strong> continuing to present concerts in New York, and he<br />
solicited ideas from colleagues for a new performing organization. One <strong>of</strong> the early<br />
options was an enterprise called the Composer’s Symphony Orchestra. An organizational<br />
prospectus found in the Cowell Papers includes a list <strong>of</strong> members: Varèse, Cowell, Ives,<br />
Riegger, Ruggles, Salzedo, and Weiss; many <strong>of</strong> the same composers who would<br />
incorporate the PAAC. An inscription at the top <strong>of</strong> the typewritten proposal reads, “<strong>The</strong><br />
beginning <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> Amer. Assoc. <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> – Varèse left for France soon after.” 11<br />
<strong>The</strong> Composer’s Symphony Orchestra, in which members would have comprised the<br />
controlling board, was designed to present on each concert one “very old” work, one<br />
10 Political <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism is discussed in detail in the Introduction.<br />
11 Draft <strong>of</strong> a form letter, dated 1928. Letterhead: New School for Social Research. Cowell Papers. This<br />
notation is in Sidney Robertson Cowell’s handwriting.<br />
66
“standard repertoire” work chosen by the conductor, one “contemporary European work<br />
by a leading and accepted master,” and one “work by one <strong>of</strong> the composers <strong>of</strong> the<br />
committee.” <strong>The</strong> Composer’s Symphony Orchestra idea would be discarded, however,<br />
only to be proposed again after Varèse dissolved the PAAC in 1934.<br />
Instead, the group created a performance society based upon the idea <strong>of</strong> gathering<br />
some <strong>of</strong> the most talented composers <strong>of</strong> the hemisphere. According to available<br />
documentation, this idea belonged to Carlos Chávez, despite the fact that Varèse<br />
appointed himself Founder and President. Upon returning from New York to Mexico<br />
City in 1924, Chávez had begun a modern chamber music series along the lines <strong>of</strong> the<br />
I.C.G. His programs featured music by Bartók, Honegger, Milhaud, Poulenc, Revueltas,<br />
Schoenberg, Stravinsky, Varèse, and himself. <strong>The</strong> concerts attracted little critical<br />
attention, however, and the series ultimately failed. 12 Chávez returned to New York in<br />
September 1926. Three months later, on December 5, the New York Times published<br />
Cuba’s call for a <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Music Congress to be held in Havana in conjunction with<br />
the Sixth <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Conference scheduled for February 1928:<br />
<strong>The</strong> first <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Musical Congress will be held at Havana, Cuba, in<br />
February 1928. President Machado has issued a decree appointing a committee<br />
from the Cuban National Academy <strong>of</strong> Fine Arts and Letters to make all<br />
arrangements and to issue <strong>of</strong>ficial invitations. <strong>The</strong> academy has made an<br />
exhaustive study <strong>of</strong> the origins <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music, its progress and its relation to<br />
universal music. <strong>The</strong> committee will be headed by Señor José Manuél Carbonell,<br />
President <strong>of</strong> the academy; Eduardo Sanchez and Hubert de Blanck, both <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Academy <strong>of</strong> Fine Arts. Invitations will be issued to all <strong>American</strong> countries, to<br />
their principal bands and orchestras, to representative composers. It is expected<br />
that a committee <strong>of</strong> eminent musicians from the United States will assist at this<br />
congress. Music <strong>of</strong> North America, Central and South America will be present at<br />
different concerts. 13<br />
12 Robert L. Parker, Carlos Chávez, el Orfeo contemporáneo de México. Mexico, D.F.: Consejo Nacional<br />
para la Cultura y las Artes, 2002.<br />
13 “<strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> Music,” New York Times (December 5, 1926), X14.<br />
67
This music congress never took place, but the announcement may have inspired Chávez.<br />
He proposed the idea <strong>of</strong> the PAAC to Varèse, who marshaled resources and invited<br />
composers to a series <strong>of</strong> organizational meetings at the end <strong>of</strong> 1927. 14 <strong>The</strong> New York<br />
Times and the Los Angeles Times published announcements on March 18, 1928, based on<br />
the following prospectus written by Varèse:<br />
<strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> is a newly formed group made up<br />
exclusively <strong>of</strong> composers who are citizens <strong>of</strong> the countries <strong>of</strong> North, Central and<br />
South America. <strong>The</strong> association will not limit its activities to any one locality, but<br />
will sponsor the production <strong>of</strong> its members’ works in different cities throughout<br />
the Americas. Emphasis will be laid on the advisability and necessity <strong>of</strong> giving<br />
outstanding works as many performances as possible, in contra-distinction to the<br />
organizations who [sic] are not in a position to give even second hearings to<br />
work[s] which have aroused unusual interest. It is the hope <strong>of</strong> the association that<br />
the performance <strong>of</strong> North <strong>American</strong> works in Central and South America and <strong>of</strong><br />
Central and South <strong>American</strong> works in the United States will promote wider<br />
mutual appreciation <strong>of</strong> the music <strong>of</strong> the different republics <strong>of</strong> America, and will<br />
stimulate composers to make still greater effort toward creating a distinctive<br />
music <strong>of</strong> the Western Hemisphere. Encouragement may be derived from the fact<br />
that whereas a few years ago it would have been impossible to find a sufficient<br />
number <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> composers with new musical ideals to form such an<br />
association, today there is a sizeable group <strong>of</strong> progressive men and women who,<br />
although representing many different tendencies, are banded together through<br />
serious and sincere interest in furthering all the finest music being written in the<br />
Americas. <strong>The</strong> present members <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Association</strong> are: Carlos Chávez, Acario<br />
Cotapos, Henry Cowell, Ruth Crawford, E.E. Fabini, Howard Hanson, Roy<br />
Harris, Charles Ives, Colin McPhee, S. Revueltas, D. Rudhyar, Carl Ruggles,<br />
Carlos Salzedo, William Grant Still, Edgar [sic] Varèse, Adolph Weiss, Emerson<br />
Whithorne. <strong>The</strong> executive board is composed <strong>of</strong> Edgar Varèse, President;<br />
14 Chávez’s document is not extant, but Cowell referenced it in a letter to Chávez in 1929.<br />
68
Emerson Whithorne, Henry Cowell, Carl Ruggles, Carlos Chávez, Vice-<br />
Presidents. 15<br />
Of the composers listed as incorporating members in the February 1928 announcement,<br />
three were from Latin <strong>American</strong> countries: Carlos Chávez, Acario Cotapos, and Eduardo<br />
Fabini. Of these three, however, only Chávez played any role in the PAAC. Uruguayan<br />
composer Eduardo Fabini was visiting New York in February 1928 for the premiere <strong>of</strong><br />
his orchestral work La isla de los ceibos (1924-26), conducted on February 12 by<br />
Giuseppe Bamboschek with the Metropolitan Opera Company. He celebrated the<br />
successful performance at Gentner’s restaurant with Varèse, who wrote an enthusiastic<br />
review in French on the back <strong>of</strong> a menu:<br />
<strong>The</strong> first performance <strong>of</strong> the symphonic poem by E.F. La isla de los ceibos took<br />
place this evening at the Sunday Orchestral Concert in the Metropolitan Opera<br />
Co. <strong>The</strong> work, warmly received by the large audience, recommends itself to<br />
musicians because <strong>of</strong> the logic <strong>of</strong> its structure, the impeccability <strong>of</strong> its<br />
developments and the poetry and freshness <strong>of</strong> the ideas. <strong>The</strong> richness and variety<br />
<strong>of</strong> sonic timbres as well as the flexibility and firmness <strong>of</strong> the orchestral matter<br />
reveal in the young master a solid and disciplined culture and an imagination from<br />
which future fruits are eagerly expected. 16<br />
It is not surprising, therefore, that Varèse included Fabini’s name among the founding<br />
members when he released the PAAC press announcement a few weeks later. Chilean<br />
composer Acario Cotapos, also among Varèse’s cohort, was similarly listed in the<br />
prospectus. Cotapos, who lived in New York between 1916 and 1925, had been an<br />
advising member <strong>of</strong> the I.C.G. From 1925 until 1935 he lived in Paris, where Varèse was<br />
also present between 1928 and 1933. Neither Fabini’s nor Cotapos’ works were ever<br />
programmed on a PAAC-sponsored concert. Evidently, due to lack <strong>of</strong> interest, their<br />
association with the PAAC ended with the 1928 announcement.<br />
Ambitious plans for a New York concert began almost immediately. It was<br />
scheduled for late April, but lack <strong>of</strong> funding slowed the process. Cowell wrote to Ives,<br />
15 PAAC Folder, Cowell Papers.<br />
16 Translation provided by Gabriela Paraskevaidis in “Edgard Varèse and his Relationships with Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> Musicians and Intellectuals <strong>of</strong> His Time.” Contemporary Music Review 23/2 (June 2004): 4.<br />
69
most likely in the hope that he would provide financial support: “[<strong>The</strong> PAAC] proposes<br />
to give some concerts in April in New York, and would like to have your ‘Emerson’ [first<br />
movement <strong>of</strong> the Piano Sonata No. 2, “Concord, Mass., 1840-1860”] performed, if you<br />
are agreeable.” 17 Cowell suggested that Richard Buhlig be engaged to perform the work,<br />
but no extant evidence suggests that this concert ever took place. 18<br />
In addition to Ives, another financier <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concerts was Blanche<br />
Wetherill Walton (1871-1963), a major patron <strong>of</strong> the modern artistic community in New<br />
York. Walton, a pianist who had studied with Edward MacDowell, was a staunch<br />
supporter <strong>of</strong> Cowell, Chávez, Varèse, Ruggles, Crawford, Riegger, Weiss and many<br />
others. On her role in the New York music scene and her relationship with Cowell<br />
Walton wrote,<br />
<strong>The</strong> one contribution I could make to the gifted and struggling pioneer composer<br />
was to turn my apartment in Central Park West into a meeting place. . . . My<br />
rooms were comfortably apart which left other rooms for visiting composers <strong>of</strong><br />
whom Cowell was a frequent one. And it was through his keen initiative and<br />
tremendous vitality that the music room was soon filled with eager composers,<br />
hearing each other’s latest works and holding heated discussions <strong>of</strong> some book<br />
from South America, Hungary, Paris. 19<br />
Walton was known to launch composers’ careers by hosting concerts <strong>of</strong> their works,<br />
which were attended by prominent critics. She held such an evening for Ruth Crawford,<br />
who recounted in a letter to a friend, “<strong>The</strong>re were over a hundred and twenty people here<br />
. . . Winthrop Tryon said he hadn’t enjoyed an evening so much in years. . . . Also he told<br />
Blanche that he knew no one who could draw the distinguished audience together that<br />
Blanche drew here.” 20 Winthrop Tryon, a champion <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s music and a critic for the<br />
17 Letter from Henry Cowell to Charles Ives, February 28, 1928, Cowell Papers.<br />
18 <strong>The</strong> first documented U.S. performance <strong>of</strong> Ives’s “Emerson” was on September 19, 1928 in San<br />
Francisco, California, by Arthur Hardcastle on a concert <strong>of</strong> the New Music Society at the Rudolph<br />
Schaeffer Studios. James B. Sinclair, A Descriptive Catalog <strong>of</strong> the Music <strong>of</strong> Charles Ives. (New Haven, CT:<br />
Yale University Press, 1999).<br />
19 Quoted in Nancy Eagle Lindley, “Singer Radiana Pazmor and <strong>American</strong> music: <strong>The</strong> Performer as<br />
Advocate,” (Dissertation: University <strong>of</strong> Maryland, 1993), 143.<br />
20 Letter from Ruth Crawford to Alice Lee Burrow, October 17, 1929. Quoted in Lindley, 144.<br />
70
Christian Science Monitor, published an announcement <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s founding in<br />
February 1928:<br />
Edgar [sic] Varèse has started something again. This time it is the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>, a militant group that purposes to push the modern<br />
musical cause in the Western Hemisphere. . . . <strong>Composers</strong> from everywhere on<br />
the continents <strong>of</strong> North and South America and the West Indies are invited to join;<br />
only, they must exemplify in their works an advanced tendency. <strong>The</strong>y must not be<br />
persons who write in an old-fashioned manner. <strong>The</strong> test, broadly speaking, will be<br />
craftsmanship. 21<br />
Unfortunately, many <strong>of</strong> the critics who attended PAAC concerts did not judge the works<br />
presented there based on craftsmanship alone, which would have required understanding<br />
each work on its own terms. Instead, they deemed many <strong>of</strong> those compositions,<br />
particularly the works by Latin <strong>American</strong> composers that used indigenous instruments or<br />
popular rhythms, as curiosities <strong>of</strong> passing interest and little merit.<br />
When it came to changing critics’ and conductors’ minds about the value <strong>of</strong> new<br />
<strong>American</strong> music, Cowell and the other PAAC organizers knew the power <strong>of</strong> having such<br />
works readily at hand. In expectation <strong>of</strong> orchestral concerts <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> music,<br />
Cowell planned a catalogue to be sent to conductors and ensemble leaders in the<br />
Americas and Europe listing all compositions <strong>of</strong> every PAAC-affiliated composer and<br />
providing “the length <strong>of</strong> time <strong>of</strong> each work, its instrumentation, and a short descriptive<br />
note” about each piece. 22 Cowell never completed the catalogue, but Charles Seeger<br />
produced similar publications in his position as Director <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> Union<br />
Music Section. <strong>The</strong>se included <strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> the Americas: Biographical Data and<br />
Catalogs <strong>of</strong> their Works (1955-79) as well as Latin <strong>American</strong> Orchestral Music Available<br />
in the United States (1956).<br />
Financing the concerts was not the only initial challenge for the PAAC. By<br />
September 1928 the nearly complete lack <strong>of</strong> response from Varèse’s Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
colleagues frustrated him. He wrote to Cowell that he had “not received the promised list<br />
21 Winthrop P. Tryon, “A <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Guild,” Christian Science Monitor, February 25, 1928.<br />
22 Letter from Henry Cowell to Charles Ives, March 27, 1928, Cowell Papers.<br />
71
from Fabini – and Cotapos did not even answer my letter.” 23 With prospects for a well<br />
organized performance society dimming, and without having achieved much beyond the<br />
PAAC prospectus, Varèse planned his departure for Europe. He wrote to Cowell, “We<br />
are leaving first week in October for Paris – I will open there ‘<strong>The</strong> Varèse Laboratory <strong>of</strong><br />
Composition and Laboratory <strong>of</strong> Music.’ European prospects look very encouraging. I<br />
think that during my absence you and [Emerson] Whithorne will be able to work together<br />
for the success <strong>of</strong> the P[an] A[merican].” 24 Cowell, for his part, was frustrated, as well.<br />
He wrote to Ives in November, “I believe the lack <strong>of</strong> success <strong>of</strong> this organization is<br />
because certain composers blocked any action, thru jealousy that other composers’ works<br />
would be presented to conductors! I think some working plan may be found for the<br />
association later, and all the troubles ironed out.” 25<br />
Chávez, who otherwise would have been expected to take an active role in the<br />
organization he helped establish, returned to Mexico City in July 1928 and found himself<br />
busier than ever. In September he accepted an unexpected post as director <strong>of</strong> the new<br />
Orquesta Sinfónica Mexicana (later renamed the Orquesta Sinfónica de México). In<br />
December he was also named director <strong>of</strong> the Conservatorio Nacional. His music,<br />
moreover, was being performed in New York at League concerts and with the Copland-<br />
Sessions group. Cowell, nevertheless, wrote to Chávez in August 1929, hoping to<br />
persuade him that the PAAC would still be a worthwhile enterprise. He explained that the<br />
PAAC members planned to hold a meeting to elect new <strong>of</strong>ficers “to carry out a broad<br />
policy along the lines you wished, altruistic and as all inclusive as it is possible to make<br />
it.” 26 Cowell requested that Chávez submit his written wishes for the organization to him,<br />
since Varèse still held the original copy. Cowell evidently felt comfortable enough with<br />
Chávez to speak frankly:<br />
My position is that while I have the greatest appreciation <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s work, and<br />
consider him one <strong>of</strong> the most interesting <strong>of</strong> the composers, I feel that he works so<br />
23 Letter from Edgard Varèse to Henry Cowell, Sept. 1, 1928, Cowell Papers.<br />
24 Letter from Varèse to Cowell, Sept. 18, 1928. Cowell Papers.<br />
25 Letter from Henry Cowell to Charles Ives, November 24, 1928. Charles Ives Papers, Beinecke Library,<br />
Yale University.<br />
26 Letter from Henry Cowell to Carlos Chávez, 1929. Cowell Papers.<br />
72
politically in an organization that it is better to try to run it without his immediate<br />
direction. . . . I realize that you have probably lost interest in the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Association</strong>, but I believe that it can still be made a wonderful vehicle, and hope<br />
very much that you will pull with it. Mrs. Walton is backing a concert for the <strong>Pan</strong><br />
<strong>American</strong>s, to be held in one <strong>of</strong> the regular halls, and with proper advertising, and<br />
a small chamber group. <strong>The</strong> plan is to have half <strong>of</strong> it for the Latin <strong>American</strong>s and<br />
half for the North <strong>American</strong>s. 27<br />
From 1929 on Chávez did not play an active role in the PAAC, but he did not lose<br />
interest in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> enterprise altogether. In fact, his attention to <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
collaborations <strong>of</strong>ten extended beyond the scope <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, despite the fact that his<br />
conducting and teaching activities occupied him fully. Almost immediately after<br />
accepting the post as director <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta Sinfónica Mexicana, Chávez made plans to<br />
play Cowell’s Symphonietta and invited both Cowell and Copland to play their concertos<br />
with his orchestra. He wrote articles about U.S. composers and solicited their<br />
contributions for Mexican cultural journals such as Ulises. In addition to performing<br />
works by U.S. composers, Chávez worked as a tireless liaison for many Mexican<br />
composers to have their works heard in New York. In 1936, two years after the<br />
dissolution <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, he even started a summer <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> chamber series in<br />
Mexico City. Chapter 4 returns to his aforementioned divergence from the political<br />
agenda <strong>of</strong> the PAAC.<br />
Julian Carrillo, another Mexican composer whose works had been heard in New<br />
York and who had previously been labeled the “herald <strong>of</strong> a musical Monroe Doctrine,” 28<br />
was a logical choice to participate in the PAAC. Carrillo’s extended stay in New York<br />
between winter 1925 and spring 1928 drew attention to his music and his controversial<br />
theory <strong>of</strong> microtones called Sonido 13 (the thirteenth sound), in which he divided a whole<br />
tone into sixteen or more intervals. While Carrillo was in New York, his microtonal<br />
works were performed on two widely reviewed concerts. <strong>The</strong> first, in March 1926, was<br />
27 Ibid.<br />
28 Maria Cristina Mena, “Julian Carrillo: <strong>The</strong> Herald <strong>of</strong> a Musical Monroe Doctrine,” <strong>The</strong> Century 90<br />
March 1915 (753-759). <strong>The</strong> Monroe Doctrine, as discussed in the Introduction, has been interpreted in a<br />
variety <strong>of</strong> ways since its inception in 1823. In this instance it refers to the attempt to stop the spread <strong>of</strong><br />
European influence in the western hemisphere through <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism.<br />
73
sponsored by the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> and included Carrillo’s Sonata casi fantasia for a<br />
chamber ensemble <strong>of</strong> microtonal instruments. On the second concert Leopold Stokowski<br />
led the Philadelphia Orchestra, which was augmented by a small group <strong>of</strong> microtonal<br />
instruments, in an orchestrated version <strong>of</strong> the same work titled Concertino. 29 Why<br />
Carrillo was not involved in the PAAC is not entirely clear. He had poor relations with<br />
other Mexican composers, including Chávez, who rejected his Sonido 13 theories and<br />
denounced him in the Mexican press. In 1923 a large group <strong>of</strong> students from the national<br />
conservatory revolted against Carrillo’s proposed pedagogical and institutional changes<br />
and requested his removal. 30 His problems escalated further when nine composers<br />
published a series <strong>of</strong> articles and held radio broadcasts attacking his theories. <strong>The</strong> young<br />
Chávez wrote an article in August 1924 in Mexico City’s El Universal entitled “El cruti<br />
hindú y el cuarto de tono europeo” (<strong>The</strong> Hindu cruti and the European quarter tone). <strong>The</strong><br />
article amounted to an accusation that Carrillo’s music had nothing new to <strong>of</strong>fer besides a<br />
reiteration <strong>of</strong> European models. 31 <strong>The</strong> tensions between Chávez and Carrillo found their<br />
way into the PAAC. Varèse wrote to Chávez on February 3, 1928, “How do you feel<br />
about Carrillo? Would it not be better to have him with us than against?” 32 Chávez’s<br />
response is not extant, but he likely answered in the negative. Cowell knew <strong>of</strong> Carrillo<br />
but had evidently not heard his music. He wrote to his mother regarding who was to be<br />
included in the PAAC: “possibly Carrillo, the man who uses 16th tones, but I hear from<br />
all over that his actual compositions are very commonplace.” 33 Carrillo requested a<br />
meeting with Cowell on February 18 “regarding our activities,” referring to the PAAC. 34<br />
At this meeting Carrillo proposed that Angel Reyes be nominated as the PAAC’s Cuban<br />
29 For a list <strong>of</strong> relevant reviews, see Christina Taylor Gibson, “<strong>The</strong> Music <strong>of</strong> Manuel M. Ponce, Julian<br />
Carrillo, and Carlos Chávez in New York, 1925-1932.” (Diss., University <strong>of</strong> Maryland, 2008).<br />
30 See Taylor Gibson’s “Carillo and Sonido 13 in New York, 1925-1932.”<br />
31 Carlos Chávez, “El cruti hindú y el cuarto de tono europeo.” El Universal (August 24, 1924). For a wellreasoned<br />
refutation <strong>of</strong> this widely held view, see Alejandro Madrid, Sounds <strong>of</strong> the Modern Nation: Music,<br />
Culture, and Ideas in Post-Revolutionary Mexico. (Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 2008).<br />
32 Letter from Edgard Varèse to Carlos Chávez, February 3, 1928, Carlos Chávez Papers, JOB 93-4, Music<br />
Division, <strong>The</strong> New York Public Library for the Performing Arts.<br />
33 Letter from Henry Cowell to Olive Cowell, February 1928, Cowell Papers.<br />
34 Letter from Carrillo to Henry Cowell, February 18, 1928, Cowell Papers.<br />
74
epresentative. Reyes, a Cuban violinist and composer, was a strong proponent <strong>of</strong><br />
Carrillo’s Sonido 13 theory, but he was never associated with the PAAC for reasons<br />
discussed below. Carrillo returned to Mexico shortly after his meeting with Cowell.<br />
With Chávez’s and Carrillo’s departure from New York and Fabini’s and<br />
Cotapos’s silence, Cowell realized that in order to ensure the success <strong>of</strong> the PAAC he had<br />
to find talent among a new crop <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> composers who had not been<br />
affiliated with the I.C.G. In Cuba, Cowell found fertile soil for the development <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> sentiment. <strong>The</strong> composers Amadeo Roldán, Alejandro García Caturla, and<br />
Pedro Sanjuán were also eager to shake <strong>of</strong>f the chains <strong>of</strong> European musical culture,<br />
though both Caturla and Sanjuán had studied in France. Sanjuán began his studies in<br />
Spain under Joaquín Turina and continued at the Schola Cantorum in Paris under Vincent<br />
d’Indy, where he became acquainted with Varèse. Sanjuán moved to Cuba in 1924 and<br />
founded the Orquesta Filarmónica de La Habana. Probably at the suggestion <strong>of</strong> Varèse,<br />
Cowell nominated Sanjuán as a composer member <strong>of</strong> the PAAC and initiated an<br />
exchange <strong>of</strong> scores. In the same letter, Cowell asked Sanjuán to select a Cuban <strong>of</strong>ficer for<br />
the PAAC, since Sanjuán was not a Cuban citizen. When Cowell, at Carrillo’s<br />
suggestion, proposed Angel Reyes as an <strong>of</strong>ficer, Sanjuán’s response was unequivocal:<br />
Regarding the confidential information you ask on Sr. Angel Reyes I will say<br />
most confidentially too, but with frankness d[u]e all art lovers, that Reyes has no<br />
standing at all as a composer. We are all surprised to hear his nomination as<br />
representation <strong>of</strong> Carrillo’s Sound 13 Group. Although we consider this being so<br />
as to Carrillo could not find anybody else instead [sic]. 35<br />
In place <strong>of</strong> Reyes, Sanjuán proposed Roldán and Caturla, both his students. Eventually he<br />
decided to appoint Roldán without consulting Caturla. When Caturla heard <strong>of</strong> this<br />
development he was furious and wrote a frank letter to Cowell expressing his dismay.<br />
Maria Muñoz de Quevedo, Spanish émigré pianist, patron <strong>of</strong> new music, and founder <strong>of</strong><br />
the Cuban journal Musicalia, pointedly noted in a letter to Cowell “the inconsistency <strong>of</strong><br />
Sanjuán in his capacity [as] Cuban elector in a <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> association, since he is<br />
35 Letter from Pedro Sanjuán to Henry Cowell, Havana, March 25, 1930, [Original in English] Cowell<br />
Papers.<br />
75
neither Cuban nor <strong>American</strong>, nor even a naturalized citizen.” 36 Roldán was, nevertheless,<br />
retained as vice-president <strong>of</strong> the West Indies chapter <strong>of</strong> the PAAC. In Roldán (1900-<br />
1939), Cowell found a kindred spirit who believed that <strong>American</strong> music deserved the<br />
attention <strong>of</strong> European audiences. Roldán had complained to Chávez in 1929 that<br />
orchestras in Europe were not interested in works from the New World. Attempts to<br />
interest the Orquesta Bética de Sevilla in his own works failed, and he concluded, “we,<br />
the youths <strong>of</strong> the two continents, are incompatible.” 37<br />
Encouraged by increased participation from the Cuban contingent and undeterred<br />
by early financial setbacks, Cowell organized the first PAAC performance. <strong>The</strong> inaugural<br />
concert consisting <strong>of</strong> Latin-<strong>American</strong> chamber works took place on March 12, 1929. It<br />
included representative pieces from Cuba (Caturla and Roldán), Mexico (Chávez), Brazil<br />
(Villa-Lobos), and Guatemala (Raul <strong>Pan</strong>iagua). Cowell’s initial plans included giving the<br />
concert at the New School, but other members wished to have it in a larger hall so that<br />
critics might attend. <strong>The</strong> venue eventually agreed upon was Birchard Hall in the Steinway<br />
Building at 113 W. 57th Street. Adolph Weiss was charged with hiring performers and<br />
organizing their rehearsals, a role that he fell into naturally; he would later conduct most<br />
<strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s chamber concerts in New York. His newly formed “<strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
Chamber Ensemble” also performed in concerts <strong>of</strong> the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>, Pro<br />
Musica, and Saminsky’s Polyhymnia. Cowell briefly introduced the Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
composers whose works were performed, and then the concert proceeded as follows:<br />
Alejandro Caturla, Dos Danzas Cubanas: “Danza del Tambor,” “Danza Lucumí”<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina; 36<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, O ginete do pierrozinho; A Prole do Bebe, No. 1<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Dos Canciones populares cubanas: “Punto Criollo,” “Guajira<br />
Vueltabajera”<br />
Raul <strong>Pan</strong>iagua, Mayan Legend (arranged for piano and played by the composer)<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Three Songs<br />
(Repeat <strong>of</strong> Caturla, Chávez, Villa-Lobos)<br />
36 Letter from de Maria Muñoz de Quevedo to Henry Cowell, June 17, 1930, Cowell Papers.<br />
37 Letter from Amadeo Roldán to Carlos Chávez, July 23, 1929, Archivo General de la Nación de México,<br />
Fondo Carlos Chávez. “Somos incompatibles las juventudes de los dos continentes.”<br />
76
Despite the more promising venue, no music critics reported on the debut concert. <strong>The</strong><br />
second PAAC performance, “A Concert <strong>of</strong> Works by <strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> Mexico, Cuba, and<br />
the United States” occurred on April 21, 1930 in the Carnegie Chamber Hall. <strong>The</strong><br />
program was again comprised <strong>of</strong> chamber works and songs and was more carefully<br />
arranged to encourage comparison between Latin <strong>American</strong> and U.S. composers when<br />
appropriate, as in the pairings <strong>of</strong> the Chávez and Cowell works for violin, and songs by<br />
Imre Weisshaus and Caturla (Figure 2.1). Like the previous concert, the April 21 program<br />
went unattended by prominent critics and failed to draw a substantial audience. <strong>The</strong>se<br />
first two performances were, however, indicative <strong>of</strong> a new awareness <strong>of</strong> and appreciation<br />
for Latin <strong>American</strong> concert music that would grow in the next few years and lead to<br />
increased programming <strong>of</strong> works by Chávez, Caturla, Roldán, and Sanjuán on U.S.<br />
concerts outside the PAAC.<br />
While the PAAC was slow to gain momentum, several other organizations<br />
contributed to its mission <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> musical exchange. Cowell’s New Music Society<br />
presented a concert on October 15, 1930, at the Y.W.C.A. Auditorium in San Francisco,<br />
featuring Sanjuán conducting. <strong>The</strong> program included Sanjuán’s Sones de Castilla and<br />
Roldán’s Rítmica No. 4, as well as Ruggles’s Portals and Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire.<br />
To reciprocate, Sanjuán invited Cowell to Cuba on behalf <strong>of</strong> the Havana chapter <strong>of</strong> the<br />
I.S.C.M. to give two recitals <strong>of</strong> his piano works on December 23 and 26 (see program<br />
cover in Figure 2.2). Sanjuán also conducted the premiere <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s piano concerto on<br />
December 28 with the Havana Philharmonic. Nicolas Slonimsky’s Chamber Orchestra <strong>of</strong><br />
Boston presented two well publicized performances in which he included Caturla’s<br />
Bembé: Afro-Cuban Movement. Though not Slonimsky’s <strong>of</strong>ficial PAAC debut, these two<br />
concerts, one in Town Hall on January 10, 1931, and the other at the New School on<br />
February 7, served as his auditions as orchestral conductor <strong>of</strong> the PAAC. Through them<br />
he established the precedent <strong>of</strong> presenting two concerts in succession in a given location.<br />
Often, the first performance stirred up interest so that the second attracted prominent<br />
music critics. He would later use this tactic in Europe with mixed success. Slonimsky<br />
repeated this formula in Havana in March 1931 when he conducted two concerts <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Orquesta Filarmónica.<br />
77
Figure 2.1. Concert program, Carnegie Chamber Hall, April 21, 1930.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re he presented Ives’s Three Places in New England, Cowell’s Sinfonietta, Ruggles’<br />
Men and Mountains, Roldán’s Rítmica No. 4 and Caturla’s Bembé in addition to works<br />
by Bach, Mozart, Honegger, Bloch, Bartók and Prok<strong>of</strong>iev (see program in Figure 2.3).<br />
Though other conductors led PAAC-sponsored concerts, Slonimsky became widely<br />
78
known for his PAAC presentations in Europe, and he retained the position as <strong>of</strong>ficial<br />
PAAC conductor throughout the life <strong>of</strong> the organization.<br />
Figure 2.2. Program cover for Henry Cowell’s solo concerts in Havana, December 23, and 26, 1930.<br />
Cowell Papers, NYPL.<br />
79
Figure 2.3. Concert program, Slonimsky’s performances with the Havana Philharmonic, March 18 and 21,<br />
1931. Cowell Papers, NYPL.<br />
80
<strong>The</strong> Concerts in New York and Cuba, 1931-1934<br />
Sparsely attended concerts presented whenever money could be scraped together<br />
characterized the early life <strong>of</strong> the PAAC. Adolph Weiss conducted his <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
Chamber Ensemble in a concert at the New School on March 10, 1931. <strong>The</strong> program<br />
included Sanjuán’s Sones de Castilla, Roldán’s Rítmica No. 4, Rudhyar’s <strong>The</strong> Surge <strong>of</strong><br />
Fire, Riegger’s Three Canons for Woodwinds, and Weiss’s Kammersymphonie. To help<br />
keep the PAAC’s mission alive in Cuba, Sanjuán conducted “An All North <strong>American</strong><br />
Concert” with his Havana Philharmonic on August 27. Between 1929 and 1931 the<br />
PAAC <strong>of</strong>fered one New York concert per year. Things began to pick up in 1932 due in<br />
part to the publicity generated by Slonimsky’s Paris concerts in the summer <strong>of</strong> 1931<br />
(discussed in Chapter 3).<br />
<strong>The</strong> PAAC <strong>of</strong>fered three concerts in New York in 1932. On January 5 Weiss led<br />
his chamber orchestra in a dance recital with Martha Graham’s and Charles Weidman’s<br />
respective dance troupes at the New School Auditorium. Works by Villa-Lobos,<br />
Honegger, Louis Horst, Debussy, Satie, Riegger, Rudhyar, and Cowell were<br />
choreographed for dance, while Weiss conducted his <strong>American</strong> Sketches as an interlude<br />
between the two dance companies.<br />
On February 16 the New School again presented Weiss and the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
Chamber Orchestra in a concert “with chamber and orchestra works by composers <strong>of</strong><br />
Mexico, Argentine, and the United States.” 38 At the February 16 concert John J. Becker<br />
conducted his Concerto Arabesque with Georgia Kober as pianist. Other works included<br />
Roy Harris’s String Quartet, performed by the New World String Quartet, Ives’s Set for<br />
<strong>The</strong>atre Orchestra, Chávez’s Energía, and songs by Crawford and Alfonso Broqua sung<br />
by Radiana Pazmor. Gustav Davidson, writing for the New York Daily Mirror,<br />
considered, in purple prose, Ives’s Set to be the most significant work on the program:<br />
“though markedly cerebral in structure, the chords being built on a mathematical basis,<br />
the product was a fabric <strong>of</strong> exquisite sonorescence, the harmonic overtones having been<br />
conceived with utmost skill and the melodic line wrought with sublime latitude.” In<br />
contrast, Davidson considered Roy Harris’s String Quartet “a work obtuse in character,<br />
38 Program, Cowell Papers.<br />
81
and somewhat soporific.” 39 With this performance, however, the PAAC finally registered<br />
with New York’s musical establishment.<br />
It is not coincidental that the PAAC emerged as a musical entity just as the U.S.<br />
economy was hitting rock bottom. 1932 saw the worst <strong>of</strong> the economic depression, as the<br />
Gross National Product fell a record 13.4 percent, and unemployment rose to 23.6<br />
percent. Cowell noted in his yearly <strong>American</strong>a Annual entry:<br />
<strong>The</strong> result <strong>of</strong> the financial conditions has been that the plans <strong>of</strong> nearly all musical<br />
organizations, both large and small, have been greatly curtailed for the season<br />
beginning in the fall <strong>of</strong> 1932. . . . <strong>The</strong> San Francisco Symphony Orchestra is<br />
presenting concerts during half the season only. <strong>The</strong> Philadelphia Orchestra,<br />
finding that the box-<strong>of</strong>fice receipts <strong>of</strong> classical programs are greater than those<br />
from modern programs, publicly announced that this year there will be no<br />
novelties or experimental music on its programs. 40<br />
<strong>The</strong> difficult economic situation and the cancellation <strong>of</strong> concerts presented a situation that<br />
the PAAC’s organizers recognized as an opportunity. In October, Wallingford Riegger<br />
wrote an article in which he reintroduced the PAAC, explained its origins and mission,<br />
and recounted its European successes <strong>of</strong> 1931:<br />
After six years <strong>of</strong> brave battling, [the International <strong>Composers</strong> Guild] was<br />
dissolved in 1927. . . . Still the various [compositional] tendencies were so<br />
manifold, the modern movement had grown to such proportions in this country,<br />
that the need was felt for an organization which should specialize in <strong>American</strong><br />
works. This function is now filled by the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong>. [<strong>The</strong> PAAC] is all-embracing in its <strong>American</strong>ism, its membership<br />
being about equally divided between the United States and the Latin-<strong>American</strong><br />
nations. . . . Now for the first time in history Europe has been enabled to hear to<br />
an appreciable extent the works <strong>of</strong> her <strong>American</strong> contemporaries. This is due to<br />
39 Gustav Davidson, “Music,” New York Daily Mirror February 17, 1932 Cowell Papers.<br />
40 Henry Cowell, “Music,” <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong>a Annual: An Encyclopedia <strong>of</strong> Current Events, ed. A.H.<br />
MacDannald (New York: <strong>American</strong>a Corporation, 1933), 514.<br />
82
the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong>, which last season gave nine concerts <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
music in European cities. 41<br />
Riegger also announced the fall PAAC concert at the New School Auditorium, in which<br />
Slonimsky conducted the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Chamber Orchestra. This program, presented on<br />
November 4, 1932, included many new works, including Revueltas’s Colorines, Cowell’s<br />
Polyphonica, Caturla’s Primera Suite Cubana, and Riegger’s Dichotomy (see program in<br />
Figure 2.4). Unfortunately, the concert took place the same night as one <strong>of</strong> Paul<br />
Whiteman’s “Experiments in Modern <strong>American</strong> Music” at Carnegie Hall, a much more<br />
“spirited and fashionable occasion” according to the New York Times critic. An<br />
unsympathetic reviewer <strong>of</strong> the PAAC concert for the New York Telegram merely noted,<br />
“While Paul Whiteman dispensed the suaver blandishments <strong>of</strong> jazz at Carnegie Hall, its<br />
less palatable features were brought home quite strongly in the course <strong>of</strong> a program<br />
provided by the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>.” 42 Paul Rosenfeld, however,<br />
praised many <strong>of</strong> the individual pieces while noting that the works presented were “quite<br />
dissimilar.” 43 That Rosenfeld picked up on the PAAC’s organizing principle <strong>of</strong> collective<br />
difference is not surprising at a time when many New York-based modern performance<br />
organizations, particularly the Copland-Sessions concerts, presented music that, in Carol<br />
Oja’s words, “emanated from similar, compatible forces . . . and assumed a definable<br />
shape.” 44<br />
41 Wallingford Riegger, “<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> Plans Three Concerts for This Season/United States<br />
and Latin America Represented in Group Founded Four Years Ago; Varèse, Cowell and Chávez the<br />
Founders.” Cowell Papers.<br />
42 L.B., “<strong>Composers</strong> Hit at Evils <strong>of</strong> Jazz,” New York Telegram November 5, 1932. Cowell Papers. <strong>The</strong><br />
work in question is Jerome Moross’s cantata, Those Everlasting Blues.<br />
43 Paul Rosenfeld, “Among the Novelties,” <strong>The</strong> New Republic (January 25, 1933), 296.<br />
44 Carol J. Oja, “<strong>The</strong> Copland-Sessions Concerts and their Reception in the Contemporary Press,” Musical<br />
Quarterly 65/2 (April 1979), 226.<br />
83
Figure 2.4. Concert program, New School Auditorium, November 4, 1932. Cowell Papers, NYPL.<br />
Since the late nineteenth century a widely held view contrasted an industrial,<br />
“masculine” United States with a “feminine,” rural, fertile region south <strong>of</strong> the Rio<br />
Grande. Carlos Chávez capitalized on this view in his ballet H.P. (Horsepower), in which<br />
the title character, H.P., representing the United States as “machinery with which to<br />
manufacture from the products <strong>of</strong> the Tropics the necessary material things <strong>of</strong> life,” 45<br />
penetrates and exploits the beauty and abundance <strong>of</strong> Mexico and other Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
countries. This contrast between a masculine machine aesthetic and a feminine<br />
agricultural one affected how critics received the PAAC’s curious blend <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>American</strong>isms. At the November 4 New School event Rosenfeld had been impressed by<br />
the works <strong>of</strong> Revueltas, Villa-Lobos, and Caturla, which he said, “left the largest<br />
45 Program notes, H.P.<br />
84
impression <strong>of</strong> any compositions performed that evening.” Still, he contrasted the U.S. and<br />
Latin <strong>American</strong> works by observing that the latter were “expressions <strong>of</strong> musicians deeply<br />
rooted in their soils. One basked in their spontaneousness, animation, and lushness <strong>of</strong><br />
feeling, characteristic <strong>of</strong> much Latin <strong>American</strong> music while rare in this ‘intellectualizing’<br />
North.” 46 Because PAAC programs tended to blend musical values typically gendered as<br />
either masculine or feminine, some critics interpreted them as a jumbled confusion rather<br />
than as representing an inclusive philosophy <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism. This was the case with<br />
some European critics, as well, whose responses to the PAAC are discussed in Chapter 3.<br />
As a result <strong>of</strong> the economic depression, 1933 was the PAAC’s least active year in<br />
Europe. It was, however, the organization’s most active year in the western hemisphere,<br />
with five concerts in New York and seven in Cuba. Roldán and Caturla took more active<br />
roles in organizing PAAC concerts in Cuba with their respective orchestras. Roldán<br />
accepted the directorship <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta Filarmónica Habanera after Sanjuán moved to<br />
San Francisco in 1932. Caturla, who was isolated by his pr<strong>of</strong>essional duties as a judge<br />
and the stifling lack <strong>of</strong> appreciation for modern music in Remedios, created and led an<br />
orchestra from a group <strong>of</strong> musicians in the neighboring town <strong>of</strong> Caibarién. Caturla’s<br />
biographer Charles White called the Orquesta de Conciertos de Caibarién “one <strong>of</strong> the<br />
most remarkable accomplishments in Caturla’s life.” 47 He single-handedly organized the<br />
orchestra, which was composed <strong>of</strong> the town’s municipal band members, into a<br />
“symphony orchestra without strings.” <strong>The</strong> innovative programs were aligned with<br />
Slonimsky’s PAAC model, integrating standard repertoire and modernist <strong>American</strong><br />
pieces including Caturla’s interpretations <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban music in works such as Bembé.<br />
Caturla wrote to Riegger about his intentions to establish his new group as another<br />
chamber orchestra <strong>of</strong> the PAAC:<br />
I find myself at the moment in front <strong>of</strong> the Concert Orchestra <strong>of</strong> Caibarién, an<br />
institution that would be most pleased if you would send your works to perform<br />
them in our concerts. My interest lies in doing my part to help my fellow<br />
46 Rosenfeld, 296.<br />
47 Charles W. White, Alejandro García Caturla: A Cuban Composer in the Twentieth Century, (Lanham,<br />
MD: <strong>The</strong> Scarecrow Press, 2003), 139.<br />
85
composers <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong>, among which you find yourself, and in addition,<br />
to correspond to your attention. 48<br />
Caturla’s inaugural concert took place on December 12, 1932 in the Teatro Cervantes in<br />
Caibarién. In addition to his Bembé, Caturla conducted Stravinsky’s Scherzino from<br />
Pulcinella, the overture to <strong>The</strong> Magic Flute, Manuel de Falla’s La vida breve, César<br />
Cui’s Oriental, and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. <strong>The</strong> concert was played to a full<br />
house, and reviews were unanimously positive. A second concert on January 30, 1933,<br />
was basically the same program as the first, except that Cui’s Oriental was removed; in<br />
its place was an arrangement <strong>of</strong> Cowell’s Exultation for piano obbligato and band. <strong>The</strong><br />
third concert <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta de Conciertos de Caibarién was given on April 15, 1933,<br />
with a similar program in the smaller town <strong>of</strong> Vueltas in Santa Clara (shown in Figure 2.5<br />
on page 86; note the striking similarities in visual layout to the New School program on<br />
page 83). This concert was to be the last, however. By the summer <strong>of</strong> 1933, the upheaval<br />
wrought by extreme poverty, as well as by Gerardo Machado’s bloody responses to<br />
insurgent groups that opposed his administration, ended the short life <strong>of</strong> Caturla’s efforts<br />
to establish the PAAC in Cuba.<br />
<strong>The</strong> economic situation in 1933 also made funding the PAAC’s activities in New<br />
York more difficult. Two New York concerts, which had been planned before the<br />
economy took another sharp downward turn, occurred in the early part <strong>of</strong> the year. On<br />
February 6, George Barrère’s ensemble performed Henry Brant’s Concerto for flute with<br />
an orchestra <strong>of</strong> ten flutes in the Carnegie Chapter Hall. Richard Donovan’s Sextet for<br />
Woodwind Instruments, Ruggles’s “Toys,” and songs by Ives, Copland, Villa-Lobos, and<br />
P. Humberto Allende comprised the rest <strong>of</strong> the program. A larger “Concert <strong>of</strong> North and<br />
Latin <strong>American</strong> Music” was given on March 6 in the same venue. On this concert<br />
Slonimsky conducted the world premieres <strong>of</strong> two works for percussion ensemble,<br />
Varèse’s Ionisation and Russell’s Fugue (both discussed in detail in chapter one).<br />
Smaller works included songs by Carlos Pedrell, Roldán, Becker, Villa-Lobos, Crawford,<br />
and William Grant Still, and piano works by Chávez, Weiss, and Gerald Strang. Even<br />
Ionisation failed to draw much critical notice at its premiere. Paul Rosenfeld published<br />
one notable exception in <strong>The</strong> New Republic <strong>of</strong> April 26, 1933.<br />
48 Quoted in White, 144.<br />
86
Figure 2.5. Concert Program <strong>of</strong> Alejandro García Caturla’s Orquesta de Conciertos de Caibarién, April 15,<br />
1933.<br />
Rosenfeld described the work as “wonderful and terrifying. . . it is a complete if singular<br />
piece <strong>of</strong> music . . . the tones <strong>of</strong> the 41 percussion and friction pieces for which it is cast . .<br />
. in themselves do suggest the life <strong>of</strong> the inanimate universe. 49 When Slonimsky took it to<br />
Havana the following month, however, Ionisation created a whirlwind. It was performed<br />
on the second <strong>of</strong> two concerts with the Orquesta Filarmónica in the Teatro Nacional. <strong>The</strong><br />
first concert on April 23 included Roy Harris’s <strong>American</strong> Overture, and George<br />
Gershwin’s Cuban Overture, which was based on the then popular Cuban song “Echale<br />
Salsita.” Neither work was well received by Francisco Portela, the critic <strong>of</strong> Havana’s La<br />
49 Paul Rosenfeld, <strong>The</strong> New Republic (April 26, 1933) Cowell Papers.<br />
87
voz, who stated unequivocally <strong>of</strong> Gershwin’s overture, “<strong>The</strong> use <strong>of</strong> popular themes is not<br />
folklore. <strong>The</strong> composer’s aesthetic indecisiveness shows through the whole work, which<br />
seems rather an ‘international suite.’ At times one noted the unfortunate use <strong>of</strong> percussion<br />
instruments. In sum, it is a work without musical importance.” 50<br />
If the critic <strong>of</strong> La voz was unprepared for the unusual use <strong>of</strong> percussion in<br />
Gershwin’s work, Varèse’s forty-one-piece percussion orchestra in Ionisation must have<br />
made him apoplectic. At least the English-speaking audience had been forewarned about<br />
the April 30 concert by <strong>The</strong> Habana Post, which published a lengthy article quoting<br />
extensively from Rosenfeld’s review and touting the modernist qualities <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s<br />
work:<br />
<strong>The</strong> extraordinary concert scheduled for Sunday morning will unquestionably<br />
elevate many a quizzical eyebrow at the strange new combination <strong>of</strong> instruments<br />
and sounds. . . . Significant in the new age <strong>of</strong> mechanization, the dynamism <strong>of</strong><br />
music has called for new prophets speaking in quickened accents with the<br />
revivified vocabulary <strong>of</strong> technicians—terms and expressions too new to have been<br />
annotated. 51<br />
Other works on the program were J.S. Bach’s Suite in B for flute and strings,<br />
Schoenberg’s Begleitmusik zu einer Lichtspielszene, Revueltas’s Colorines, Copland’s<br />
Music for the <strong>The</strong>atre and “fanfares by de Falla, Milhaud, Goossens, Stravinsky,<br />
Prok<strong>of</strong>iev, Satie, Bliss, and others.” 52 A list <strong>of</strong> these short fanfares can be found in<br />
Appendix A; even Slonimsky composed one for the occasion. <strong>The</strong> opening <strong>of</strong> Caturla’s<br />
Fanfarria para despertar espiritus apolillados is shown in Figure 2.6. <strong>The</strong> concert made<br />
quite an impression on Havana’s public and its composers. Ionisation’s impact on the<br />
young José Ardévol has already been discussed in Chapter 1. To Caturla, Varèse’s use <strong>of</strong><br />
Afro-Cuban instruments such as the güiro, bongo, clave, and maraca justified his own<br />
championing <strong>of</strong> those instruments in art music. After discontinuing his orchestra<br />
50 Francisco V. Portela, “Musicales/Slonimsky en la Filarmónica,” La voz April 24, 1933 Cowell Papers,<br />
(my translation). “El uso de temas populares no es obra folclorica. La indecición estetica del compositor se<br />
adivina en toda la obra, que más bien parece una ‘suite internacional.’ A veces se notaba el uso poco<br />
afortunado de los instrumentos de percusión. En suma, es una obra sin importancia musical.”<br />
51 Unsigned, “Contemporary <strong>Composers</strong>’ Work Excites Controversy,” <strong>The</strong> Habana Post April 27, 1933.<br />
52 Program, “Dos conciertos de música nueva bajo la dirección de Nicolas Slonimsky,” Cowell Papers.<br />
88
Figure 2.6. Alejandro García Caturla, “Fanfarria para despertar espiritus apolillados.” <strong>The</strong> Fleisher<br />
Collection, Free Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia.<br />
concerts, Caturla had founded the journal Atalaya with his brother Othón, the purpose <strong>of</strong><br />
which was the “propagation <strong>of</strong> culture and the elevation <strong>of</strong> the intellectual plane” <strong>of</strong> his<br />
native Remedios. In the first issue (July 1933) Caturla wrote an article commending<br />
Varèse for his use <strong>of</strong> unorthodox percussion in Ionisation:<br />
Varèse has produced in the field <strong>of</strong> experimental music a new theory about the<br />
determination <strong>of</strong> sound and has carried it out in the composition <strong>of</strong> a work for<br />
only percussion instruments, including maracas, guiros, bongos, claves and<br />
others. . . . <strong>The</strong> score <strong>of</strong> Ionization seemed to me original and curious . . . an<br />
acoustical essay more than a musical work, lacking a defined aesthetic<br />
foundation, but it is to be considered for the great possibilities that it opens in the<br />
field <strong>of</strong> instrumental music. 53<br />
53 Alejandro García Caturla, “Realidad de la utilización sinfónica del instrumental cubano,” Atalaya 1/1<br />
(July 15, 1933), 6 (my translation).<br />
89
Caturla’s insightful description <strong>of</strong> Ionisation as an acoustical essay, an understanding <strong>of</strong><br />
the work shared by later analysts, is surprisingly prescient.<br />
Depressed economic conditions in 1933 made performance organizations such as<br />
the PAAC and the League even more important to modern composers than they had<br />
previously been. Orchestras and larger musical organizations had either failed in 1932 or<br />
shifted their programming to reflect more conventional and pr<strong>of</strong>itable fare. In April,<br />
Aaron Copland joined the executive committee <strong>of</strong> the League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>. 54 When<br />
Cowell heard this he convinced Copland, Walter Piston, and Arthur Berger to join the<br />
PAAC. To Cowell, who operated on the principle <strong>of</strong> inclusion, any prominent name on<br />
the PAAC’s roster <strong>of</strong> composer members was welcome. Copland, at least, was a reluctant<br />
participant. As he recounted to Chávez, “It was difficult to refuse. I told [Cowell] in the<br />
end that I could take no active part in the affairs <strong>of</strong> the Society.” 55 <strong>The</strong> addition <strong>of</strong> these<br />
particular new names to the PAAC roster would have far-reaching negative effects for the<br />
PAAC when Varèse returned from Paris the following year.<br />
<strong>The</strong> fall 1933 season consisted <strong>of</strong> three concerts in New York and three in<br />
Havana. Faced with considerable economic hurdles, the PAAC’s New York organizers<br />
returned to their original strategy <strong>of</strong> presenting a pair <strong>of</strong> chamber performances at the<br />
New School. <strong>The</strong> first, an “All Latin <strong>American</strong>” concert, occurred on November 1.<br />
Soprano Judith Litante sang songs by Humberto Allende, Montserrat Campmany,<br />
Caturla, Carlos Pedrell, Roldán, and Villa-Lobos accompanied by pianists Harry<br />
Cumpson and Mabel Schneider. Short pieces for piano or violin solo by Caturla and<br />
Chávez and a trio for violin, cello and piano by Villa-Lobos completed the program. An<br />
“All North <strong>American</strong>” concert took place on November 13 on which songs by Richard<br />
Donovan, Ives, Ruggles, and Weiss were presented with string quartets by Becker,<br />
Crawford, and Piston. A reviewer for the New York Times noted only that the<br />
performance was “refreshingly free from the blunders <strong>of</strong> the previous ‘<strong>American</strong>’<br />
54 Copland had been a member <strong>of</strong> the League’s advisory board since 1928.<br />
55 Letter from Aaron Copland to Carlos Chávez, April 7, 1933. AGNM, Fondo Carlos Chávez.<br />
90
evening at the New School,” 56 presumably referring to the November 1 concert. (It is<br />
unclear from the context to what “blunders” the critic alluded.)<br />
Meanwhile, Roldán was busy preparing a series <strong>of</strong> three <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> events<br />
with the Havana Philharmonic. He wrote to Chávez in June, “I am planning to give a<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concert, and I wish to dedicate the second part <strong>of</strong> the program to Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> authors. 57 Unfortunately, Roldán’s all <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concert never came to<br />
fruition; instead, he <strong>of</strong>fered a few PAAC works on each <strong>of</strong> his regular concerts with the<br />
Havana Philharmonic. On December 8, 1933, Roldán conducted Cowell’s Reel and<br />
Hornpipe. On December 24 he included Weiss’s <strong>American</strong> Life and Caturla’s La Rumba.<br />
<strong>The</strong> following February 25 Roldán programmed “Andante” from Howard Hanson’s<br />
Nordic Symphony and Riegger’s Dichotomy. Roldán and Caturla, who in their capacity as<br />
orchestra conductors attempted to establish the PAAC in Cuba, proved to be the Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> members most dedicated to the organization’s political mission <strong>of</strong> inclusive<br />
cultural exchange.<br />
As a strategy for significantly impacting New York’s modern music<br />
establishment, the principle <strong>of</strong> collective difference did not serve the PAAC well. Few<br />
prominent critics attended its New York concerts, and when they did they had very little<br />
to say about the pieces or composers presented there. <strong>The</strong> <strong>Association</strong> was less<br />
successful, therefore, than the I.C.G. or the Copland-Sessions group at attracting critical<br />
attention. Only one agenda was evident from these PAAC events: Cowell’s insistence<br />
that the concerts present new <strong>American</strong> music <strong>of</strong> all stripes. In New York this was<br />
mounted with confusing results. Across the Atlantic, however, Slonimsky took an active<br />
role in programming and advertising <strong>Association</strong> concerts. His exuberance and talent for<br />
conducting challenging modern music won him acclaim in the European presses.<br />
Slonimsky, in fact, deserves most <strong>of</strong> the credit for the PAAC’s success abroad, where<br />
<strong>American</strong> concert music was just beginning to appear on the radars <strong>of</strong> European cultural<br />
centers such as Paris and Berlin. He brought the <strong>Association</strong>’s variegated streaks <strong>of</strong><br />
56 H.H. “Living <strong>Composers</strong> Heard in Recital/Modern North <strong>American</strong>s Are Represented in Program at the<br />
New School,” New York Times (November 14, 1933), 22.<br />
57 Letter from Amadeo Roldán to Carlos Chávez, June 21, 1933. AGNM, Fondo Carlos Chávez (my<br />
translation). “Estoy planeando dar un Concierto <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>o, y pienso dedicar la segunda parte del<br />
programa a autores hispanoamericanos.“<br />
91
modern <strong>American</strong> music to these cities, leaving a storm <strong>of</strong> colorful criticism in his wake.<br />
<strong>The</strong>se concerts are the subject <strong>of</strong> Chapter 3.<br />
92
CHAPTER 3<br />
COLLECTIVE DIFFERENCE: THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION ABROAD<br />
Between May 3 and June 4, 1930, Italian conductor Arturo Toscanini and the<br />
New York Philharmonic descended on Europe in a whirlwind tour <strong>of</strong> nineteen concerts.<br />
Hailed by the New York Times as “one <strong>of</strong> the most ambitious musical visits ever planned<br />
from this side <strong>of</strong> the world,” this tour showcased the talents <strong>of</strong> what was widely<br />
considered the best orchestra <strong>of</strong> the United States. Boosted by the relative strength <strong>of</strong> the<br />
U.S. dollar, Toscanini gave two concerts each in Paris, Milan, Rome, Vienna, and Berlin.<br />
In addition, one concert was presented in each <strong>of</strong> the following cities: Zurich, Turin,<br />
Florence, Munich, Budapest, Prague, Leipzig, Dresden, and Brussels. Despite the fact<br />
that the conductor and almost two-thirds <strong>of</strong> the orchestra were <strong>of</strong> European origin,<br />
Toscanini’s tour was hailed in the New York and European presses as an <strong>American</strong><br />
triumph. Parisian critic Henri Prunières attended the inaugural concerts <strong>of</strong> the tour at the<br />
Paris Opéra on May 3 and 4. He gushed, “I have never heard any orchestral concerts<br />
comparable to these. I do not know whether New York is aware <strong>of</strong> the crushing<br />
superiority <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> orchestras over those <strong>of</strong> Europe.” 1<br />
Not everyone, however, assessed Toscanini’s efforts an undeniable success.<br />
Cowell, in his 1931 article for <strong>American</strong>a Annual, called the tour “a terrible fiasco from<br />
the standpoint <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music.” Toscanini had presented standard works by<br />
Beethoven, Brahms, Mozart, and Rossini and a few newer European pieces such as<br />
Maurice Ravel’s Bolero and Ildebrand Pizzetti’s Rondo Veneziano, but none by an<br />
<strong>American</strong> composer. Cowell interpreted this as “sure pro<strong>of</strong>, to skeptical Europeans, that<br />
<strong>American</strong>s have written nothing worthy <strong>of</strong> hearing.” 2 In response, Cowell and Ives, as<br />
1 Henri Prunières, “Toscanini Concerts in Paris,” New York Times (May 5, 1930), X7.<br />
2 Henry Cowell, <strong>American</strong>a Annual (1931), 514.<br />
93
organizer and financier, and Slonimsky, as the PAAC’s <strong>of</strong>ficial conductor, began<br />
organizing a series <strong>of</strong> concerts <strong>of</strong> new <strong>American</strong> music that they would present in Paris,<br />
Berlin, Madrid, Dessau, Vienna, Prague, Budapest, Copenhagen, and Hamburg between<br />
June 1931 and December 1932.<br />
By February 1931 Cowell had drafted a new letter for distribution among PAAC<br />
supporters. It stated that the organization’s new plans involved the presentation <strong>of</strong><br />
concerts <strong>of</strong> modern <strong>American</strong> orchestral works in European capitals. <strong>The</strong> rest <strong>of</strong> the letter<br />
explains the rationale for this endeavor:<br />
It is unfortunately the case that the few <strong>American</strong> compositions which have been<br />
performed in Europe have rarely been our most serious or most original works,<br />
with the result that we have gained the reputation in Europe <strong>of</strong> being able to<br />
produce only [handwritten in Ives’s hand: “jazz or conventional imitation <strong>of</strong><br />
European music and”] music <strong>of</strong> a rather trivial order. We hope to help combat this<br />
false impression, and plan to present concerts <strong>of</strong> serious <strong>American</strong> compositions<br />
for orchestra in Paris, Vienna, and perhaps Berlin during the summer and fall <strong>of</strong><br />
1931. 3<br />
Presenting concerts <strong>of</strong> new <strong>American</strong> music in Europe was not a novel proposition for<br />
Cowell. Charles Seeger had recalled that as early as 1916 he and Cowell had together<br />
planned to present tone clusters and string piano techniques in Europe as uniquely<br />
<strong>American</strong> innovations. 4 <strong>The</strong> PAAC organizers were also likely spurred on by a rivalry<br />
with the Copland-Sessions group, who had presented a “Concert <strong>of</strong> Works By Young<br />
<strong>American</strong>s” in June 1929 in Paris’s Salle Chopin. With concerts in Europe, Cowell, Ives,<br />
and Slonimsky intended to prove that <strong>American</strong> music had more original, native<br />
expression than could be conveyed by jazz or conservative imitations <strong>of</strong> European styles.<br />
That some <strong>of</strong> the Latin <strong>American</strong> works included on the programs were stylistically less<br />
radical than their U.S. counterparts was seemingly <strong>of</strong> no consequence to Cowell.<br />
3 Form letter written by Henry Cowell with hand-written notations by Ives, February 16, 1931. Henry<br />
Cowell Papers.<br />
4 Michael Hicks, Henry Cowell, Bohemian. (Urbana, IL: University <strong>of</strong> Illinois Press, 2002), 109.<br />
94
Unlike the Copland-Sessions group, the PAAC did not promote a clearly defined<br />
musical aesthetic. Its programs contained pieces that spanned the gamut <strong>of</strong> modern music<br />
in the Americas. Not surprisingly, one <strong>of</strong> the observations made most <strong>of</strong>ten by U.S. music<br />
critics concerned the group’s great diversity <strong>of</strong> musical styles. <strong>The</strong>se critics, notably<br />
Philip Hale, <strong>of</strong>ten dismissed that diversity as poor organization or lack <strong>of</strong> vision. Hale<br />
and others failed to recognize that purposeful diversity, or “collective difference,” was a<br />
strategy for approaching European audiences by collaborative force. As used in the<br />
context <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, the principle <strong>of</strong> collective difference describes both the stylistic<br />
diversity present on PAAC concerts and also the ultimate goal <strong>of</strong> that diversity, which<br />
was to reverse the flow <strong>of</strong> musical culture from west to east. As was evident in certain<br />
compositions the organization presented in Europe, diversity <strong>of</strong> musical idioms within a<br />
single work was also a way these composers attempted internationalism. 5 Charles Seeger<br />
summarized the spirit <strong>of</strong> collective difference in 1932: “<strong>The</strong> opportunity to contemplate<br />
the unconventional in the full panoply <strong>of</strong> its latent possibilities is actually more real, more<br />
present, in America—yes, more practical.” 6 <strong>The</strong> two concerts that took place in Paris in<br />
June 1931 are now the events for which the PAAC is best known. <strong>The</strong> organizers’<br />
original idea was to take Slonimsky’s Boston Chamber Symphony on tour in Europe, but<br />
they ultimately decided that hiring local orchestras and conductors would cost less and<br />
ensure repeat performances. Unfortunately, many conductors, with the exception <strong>of</strong><br />
Anton Webern, were unwilling to participate, and Slonimsky most <strong>of</strong>ten took the role<br />
upon himself. As the previous chapter presented a chronology <strong>of</strong> the concerts in New<br />
York and Cuba, the following discussion follows the sequence <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s European<br />
concerts. In addition, it includes brief discussions <strong>of</strong> many <strong>of</strong> the works presented on<br />
those concerts to illuminate the degree <strong>of</strong> stylistic difference present within each<br />
program.<br />
5 See, for example, the discussion <strong>of</strong> Weiss’s <strong>American</strong> Life below, or the discussions <strong>of</strong> Varèse’s<br />
Ionisation and Cowell’s Ostinato Pianissimo in chapter one.<br />
6 Charles Seeger, “Carl Ruggles,” <strong>The</strong> Musical Quarterly 18/4 (October 1932), 587.<br />
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Paris, June 6 and 11, 1931<br />
Paris in the 1920s and 30s was a sister city to New York in many respects. It was<br />
arguably the musical capital <strong>of</strong> Europe and a major destination for <strong>American</strong>s living and<br />
traveling abroad, since the U.S. dollar remained strong against the franc throughout the<br />
1920s. Paris was a place where artists and entertainers <strong>of</strong> the Harlem Renaissance, such<br />
as Josephine Baker, Bricktop, and Duke Ellington, felt welcome and where their careers<br />
flourished. Young <strong>American</strong> composers from Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Cuba, Mexico, the<br />
United States, and Uruguay flocked there to study and have their works performed.<br />
Paris also had a long history <strong>of</strong> musical spectacle and provocative concert series,<br />
which made it a prime location to launch the PAAC’s European <strong>of</strong>fensive. In the 1910s<br />
alone, concerts <strong>of</strong> new music and the Ballets Russes created a climate <strong>of</strong> sensation and<br />
exoticism. After World War I, however, organizations emphasized the performance <strong>of</strong><br />
French music. <strong>The</strong> revived Concerts Pasdeloup (1918) debuted works by Honegger,<br />
Ravel, Roussel, and Saint-Saëns. Serge Koussevitzky and other conductors presented<br />
series <strong>of</strong> new music concerts, many dedicated to the works <strong>of</strong> individual French<br />
composers. A new atmosphere <strong>of</strong> conservatism, in which spirituality and an interest in<br />
Catholicism played a large role, had also settled over Paris. Many French composers<br />
returned to more conservative forms and styles. Wanda Landowska and Nadia Boulanger<br />
both presented concerts <strong>of</strong> early music. <strong>Composers</strong> wrote works based on religious<br />
figures, especially those who were examples <strong>of</strong> French patriotism, such as Jeanne d’Arc. 7<br />
In June 1931 the PAAC concerts forced several French reviewers to reminisce about the<br />
radical concerts <strong>of</strong> the early 1920s, such as the Concerts Golschmann, which presented<br />
music <strong>of</strong> Les six, or the earlier Concerts Pasdeloup, which had premiered Schoenberg’s<br />
Five Orchestral Pieces.<br />
For his Parisian debut Slonimsky engaged the for-hire “Orchestre des Concerts<br />
Straram” founded by Walther Straram in 1925. Straram’s orchestra, with which Serge<br />
7 Joan <strong>of</strong> Arc was a popular subject. Honegger composed his dramatic oratorio Jeanne d’Arc au bûcher<br />
(Joan <strong>of</strong> Arc at the stake) in 1934. Carl <strong>The</strong>odor Dreyer’s film La passion de Jeanne d’Arc (1928) was<br />
based on the novel Jeanne d’Arc by Joseph Delteil, a work that won the Prix femina, an annual French<br />
literary prize, in 1925.<br />
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Koussevitzky had begun his conducting career, specialized in new music. 8 Both concerts<br />
were held in the 1000-seat Salle Gaveau completed in 1906. Slonimsky included a few<br />
pieces on the June 6 program meant to surprise the Parisian audience. <strong>The</strong> first work he<br />
presented was Adolph Weiss’s <strong>American</strong> Life (1929), which represents an unlikely fusion<br />
<strong>of</strong> jazz elements and an atonal idiom. 9 Though Cowell, Varèse, and others publicly<br />
decried jazz as an abomination and not representative <strong>of</strong> the best in <strong>American</strong> music, it<br />
was jazz, albeit infused with a more “serious” harmonic underpinning, that Slonimsky<br />
gave primacy <strong>of</strong> place on the first program. <strong>American</strong> Life combines syncopations,<br />
trombone glissandi, saxophones, a brushed snare drum, and a high hat-like suspended<br />
cymbal with a mostly free atonal harmonic structure. <strong>The</strong> opening theme presents a piano<br />
scotch snap figure that rises tentatively to a forte apex only to suddenly tumble downward<br />
in a series <strong>of</strong> syncopations. (Example 3.1 shows a reduction <strong>of</strong> mm. 1-3.) <strong>The</strong> following<br />
“Foxtrot” section, which returns at the end, creating a loose ABA form, features a<br />
trumpet solo to which an atonal, lurching melody and barline-crossing syncopations lend<br />
a sense <strong>of</strong> carelessness. A middle “Blues” section contains mournful English horn and<br />
soprano saxophone solos with flute interpolations in call-and-response style. <strong>The</strong> Native<br />
<strong>American</strong> presence in the New World is included in the form <strong>of</strong> an “Indian drum”<br />
relegated to a solemn marching figure in the blues section. With the benefit <strong>of</strong> historical<br />
perspective, several elements in Weiss’s work now combine to create a cautionary tale, a<br />
timely commentary on the excesses <strong>of</strong> the 1920s that had proved unsustainable. Parisians<br />
loved the easy good humor <strong>of</strong> jazz, and they did not understand Weiss’s dour<br />
interpretation <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> life. Several critics noted the jazz elements in the work but<br />
were confounded by its atonal severity and “lack <strong>of</strong> smiling irony.” 10 One notable<br />
exception was Emile Vuillermoz, who wrote that the work possessed “an inherent vitality<br />
that was quite irresistible.” 11<br />
8 Straram was born Walther Marrast (1876-1933). Stravinsky had conducted Straram’s orchestra in the first<br />
recording <strong>of</strong> his Sacre du printemps in 1929.<br />
9 <strong>American</strong> Life was the first work published in the New Music Orchestra Series in 1932. For this<br />
publication, either Cowell or Weiss assigned it the subtitle “Scherzo jazzoso.”<br />
10 Paul Dambly, “Musique,” A Paris, June 26, 1931. Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
11 Emile Vuillermoz, Excelsior. June 15, 1931 Cowell Papers.<br />
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Example 3.1. Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life, mm. 1-3.<br />
<strong>The</strong> second piece on the first Paris program was Ives’s Three Places in New<br />
England (1903-1914; rev. 1929). Slonimsky had premiered the work in a Boston<br />
Chamber Orchestra concert in Town Hall, New York, in January 1931. In the same year<br />
he would go on to conduct it in Boston, Paris, and Havana. 12 <strong>The</strong> work has since become<br />
so renowned to audiences familiar with <strong>American</strong> music that it needs little introduction<br />
here. 13 Slonimsky programmed Three Places in New England not only because <strong>of</strong> its<br />
excellence but also because it demonstrated an independent and specifically <strong>American</strong><br />
brand <strong>of</strong> musical modernism. He emphasized this point in the program notes, writing that<br />
the work had “anticipated the Sacre by about ten years . . . Would you believe he has<br />
never heard nor seen one note <strong>of</strong> Stravinsky?” 14 Though Henry Prunières concluded<br />
12 Slonimsky had planned to premiere Three Places in New England at the eighth festival <strong>of</strong> the ISCM in<br />
Liège, Belgium in September 1930, but the international committee rejected the work. Bernard Wagenaar’s<br />
Sinfonietta was chosen instead to represent the United States. Wagenaar (1894-1971) was born in the<br />
Netherlands and had been a U.S. citizen for three years. For a list <strong>of</strong> works performed at the festival see<br />
Edwin Evans, “<strong>The</strong> Liège Festival,” <strong>The</strong> Musical Times (October 1, 1930), 898.<br />
13 For a very brief description <strong>of</strong> this piece, see James B. Sinclair, A Descriptive Catalogue <strong>of</strong> the Music <strong>of</strong><br />
Charles Ives (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999). A more thorough discussion <strong>of</strong> Ives’s<br />
“places,” as well as a thoughtful treatment <strong>of</strong> the third movement, “<strong>The</strong> Housatonic at Stockbridge,” can be<br />
found in Denise Von Glahn, <strong>The</strong> Sounds <strong>of</strong> Place: Music and the <strong>American</strong> Cultural Landscape (Boston,<br />
MA: Northeastern University Press, 2003), 64-109.<br />
14 Nicolas Slonimsky, Program notes June 6, 1931 (Cowell Collection).<br />
98
(without explanation) that Ives “knows his Schoenberg,” 15 other critics acknowledged<br />
Ives as a gifted forerunner <strong>of</strong> modern developments in Europe. Several singled out the<br />
first movement, “<strong>The</strong> ‘St. Gaudens’ in Boston Common (Colonel Robert Gould Shaw<br />
and his Colored Regiment),” for special praise for its fusion <strong>of</strong> Civil War songs such as<br />
the “Battle Cry <strong>of</strong> Freedom” with folk and popular tunes such as Stephen Foster’s “Old<br />
Black Joe.”<br />
Next, Slonimsky conducted Ruggles’s Men and Mountains (1924). This was the<br />
chamber orchestra version published in 1927 in New Music. Ruggles did not arrange the<br />
modern version, which is scored for a much larger orchestra, until 1936. Like many <strong>of</strong><br />
Ruggles’s works, Men and Mountains avoids the repetition <strong>of</strong> a single pitch until nine or<br />
ten others have sounded. <strong>The</strong> overall tonal atmosphere, therefore, is one <strong>of</strong> pervasive<br />
dissonance, though it is not based on a twelve-tone system. Nevertheless, Paul Le Flem<br />
was not alone in judging the work “completely Schoenbergian, in spite <strong>of</strong> the fact that the<br />
composer seems to want to guard against any such influence.” 16 Vuillermoz was similarly<br />
puzzled about “the almost European banality” 17 <strong>of</strong> the principal theme <strong>of</strong> the third<br />
movement.<br />
<strong>The</strong> following work, Cowell’s Synchrony (1930), was originally conceived as a<br />
multimedia collaborative with Martha Graham. Synchrony was to be an experiment with<br />
the idea that a composition should be a synthesis <strong>of</strong> the arts, without any one <strong>of</strong> the<br />
elements (in this case, music, dance, or stylized lighting) taking precedence. For the<br />
work’s premiere in Paris, Cowell created an orchestral version and asserted that the title<br />
referred to the enmeshing <strong>of</strong> the musical elements contained in the work. In its orchestral<br />
version, Synchrony exhibits a first-movement symphonic form. It opens with a long<br />
statement by a solo trumpet leading to two main themes and a section <strong>of</strong> development.<br />
Synchrony was apparently successful with the public. After the concert, Slonimsky<br />
15 Henry Prunières, “<strong>American</strong> Compositions in Paris,” New York Times (July 12, 1931), X6.<br />
16 Paul Le Flem, Comoedia (June 8, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
17 Emile Vuillermoz, Excelsior (June 15, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
99
elated to Cowell, “the final gong was very impressive. I let it sound for about two<br />
minutes and no one budged in the audience.” 18<br />
Roldán’s La rebambaramba, actually a suite from the ballet <strong>of</strong> the same name,<br />
was among the more favored works by the audience and some critics. Roldán had<br />
conceived La rebambaramba, composed between 1927 and 1928, as a ballet in two acts<br />
with a scenario by Alejo Carpentier. <strong>The</strong> first movement <strong>of</strong> the suite, in a lilting 6/8<br />
rhythm, is actually the finale <strong>of</strong> the first act <strong>of</strong> the ballet. <strong>The</strong> second movement is a<br />
“comparsa lucumí,” (Lucumí procession) characterized by driving cinquillo rhythms<br />
throughout. <strong>The</strong> third is entitled “Comparsa de la culebra” (play <strong>of</strong> the snake). Slonimsky<br />
repeated the final movement, a vivacious dance that features Afro-Cuban percussion<br />
instruments including the quijada (jawbone <strong>of</strong> an ass), claves, maracas and güiro.<br />
Reviews <strong>of</strong> La rebambaramba were varied. Conceding that it was “fresh and rhythmic . .<br />
. sympathetic and very much alive” and evocative <strong>of</strong> “magic, brutality, and eroticism,” Le<br />
Flem called Roldán’s use <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cuban percussion “indiscreet and at times detrimental<br />
to the orchestration.” 19 Jules Casadesus considered the work the only original one on the<br />
program, calling Roldán “a more colonial Villa-Lobos [with] a certain talent for the<br />
impressionistic sketch, for the large spots <strong>of</strong> instrumental color and for the stylization <strong>of</strong><br />
the popular idiom.” 20<br />
Critics turned out in droves to the second concert on June 11, due partly to the<br />
success <strong>of</strong> the June 6 concert and partly to Varèse’s involvement with publicity. In the<br />
seats <strong>of</strong> the Salle Gaveau were “Prok<strong>of</strong>fiev [sic], Honegger, the entire brigade <strong>of</strong> the<br />
press (twenty-five critics, correspondents, etc.), artists, writers, [and] composers.” 21 This<br />
time, the opening work was Pedro Sanjuán’s Sones de Castilla. Dedicated to Manuel de<br />
Falla, this work is in four movements: “Crepúsculo en la meseta” (Twilight on the<br />
plateau), “Baile del pandero” (Tambourine dance), “Paramera” (Woman from Páramo),<br />
18 Nicolas Slonimsky to Henry Cowell (June 23, 1931) Cowell Papers.<br />
19 Paul Le Flem, Comoedia (June 8, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
20 Jules Casadesus, “Les Concerts,” L’Oeuvre (June 11, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell<br />
Papers.<br />
21 Slonimsky to Cowell (June 23, 1931) Cowell Papers.<br />
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and “Ronda” (Round). Coincidentally, the tambourine in the Tambourine Dance is<br />
inexplicably stripped <strong>of</strong> its jingles as in Cowell’s Ostinato Pianissimo (discussed in<br />
chapter one). In contrast to most <strong>of</strong> the other PAAC members’ works, Sanjuán’s shows<br />
no experimental temperament. He strove above all for the purity <strong>of</strong> design. Many critics<br />
showed their appreciation since his work most closely resembled French composition. Le<br />
Flem noted approvingly that Sanjuán “only borrows those things from the contemporary<br />
vocabulary that pertain strictly to him.” 22<br />
Chávez’s Energía, on the other hand, was a thoroughly ultramodern work, and<br />
critics did not know quite what to make <strong>of</strong> it. Chávez had written the work, at Varèse’s<br />
request, for an I.C.G. concert in 1925. He finished it too late for that concert, and Energía<br />
premiered on June 11 in Paris. As the title suggests, constant movement marks this<br />
chamber work, which contains three sections that are played without pause. Like some <strong>of</strong><br />
the percussion ensemble works discussed in chapter one, the scoring <strong>of</strong> Energía is<br />
divided into timbral layers: winds (piccolo, flute, and bassoon), brass (horn, trumpet, and<br />
bass trombone), and strings (viola, cello, and double bass). <strong>The</strong>se layers remain highly<br />
stratified throughout, with very limited interaction between the instrument groups. A<br />
visual representation <strong>of</strong> this stratification appears in Example 3.2. Counterpoint <strong>of</strong><br />
rhythms appears frequently in Energía, especially figures such as two against three, three<br />
against four, and four against five. Accelerated rhythmic figures also appear, as in<br />
Russell’s Fugue and Ardévol’s Fuga (discussed in Chapter 1). Chávez also wrote<br />
extended techniques for the strings, such as glissandos in double stops (m. 18) and whole<br />
passages marked “Scrape” (mm. 46-59, Example 3.2). Though Energía sounds more<br />
futuristic than neo-primitive, critics couldn’t help but conjure images <strong>of</strong> Aztec ritual.<br />
André Coeuroy colorfully described the work’s composer as “a cruelly refined Mexican<br />
who nails his harmonies to the torture block while he dances a mad scalp dance around<br />
them.” 23 Paul Le Flem conceded that Chávez was unlike his fellow Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
composers; one who “does not pitch his tent in some verdant, shady grove.” He still,<br />
22 Paul Le Flem, Comoedia (June 15, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
23 André Coeuroy, “Découverte de l’Amerique,” Gringoire (June 12, 1931) Unattributed translation found<br />
in Cowell Papers.<br />
101
however, attributed to the work a mystical quality, curiously positing that this very<br />
ultramodern work “possesses a strange power.” 24<br />
Example 3.2. Carlos Chávez, Energía, mm. 35-36. (Melville, NY: Belwin Mills, 1968), 12.<br />
24 Paul Le Flem, Comoedia (June 15, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
102
Of Carlos Salzedo’s Preambule et Jeux, for harp solo, flute, oboe, bassoon, and<br />
string quintet (1929), several critics noted only that the French Salzedo, though he had<br />
recently become a naturalized U.S. citizen, was not yet <strong>American</strong>ized in terms <strong>of</strong> his<br />
music. Moreover, his Preambule et Jeux had already been heard in Paris three times.<br />
Because <strong>of</strong> this, most reviewers declined to comment.<br />
<strong>The</strong> next work on the June 11 program was by Caturla, who had studied with<br />
Nadia Boulanger (1925-27) and returned to Cuba from Paris in 1928 eager to incorporate<br />
Afro-Cuban elements into his compositions. One <strong>of</strong> his most successful results was the<br />
symphonic work Bembé: Afro-Cuban Movement (1929). By June 1931 Slonimsky had<br />
already conducted Bembé in Boston, New York and Havana. Prior to that, however, it<br />
had premiered at the Salle Gaveau in Paris in December 1929 as part <strong>of</strong> a concert series<br />
given by French composer Marius-François Gaillard. At its first hearing Bembé’s<br />
combination <strong>of</strong> syncopations and prominent percussion reminded some Parisian<br />
reviewers <strong>of</strong> jazz; one surprisingly prescient critic alluded to Langston Hughes’s<br />
collection <strong>The</strong> Weary Blues, which had been published in 1926. 25 Bembé, which evokes<br />
Lucumí dance ritual, is scored for flute, oboe, English horn, clarinet, bass clarinet,<br />
bassoon, 2 horns, C trumpet, trombone, and a battery <strong>of</strong> percussion meant to imitate<br />
Afro-Cuban instruments: snare drum, suspended cymbal, bass drum, and tam-tam. In the<br />
Cuban journal Musicalia, Caturla had firmly announced his stance on the use <strong>of</strong> Afro-<br />
Cuban instruments in concert music: “To mobilize a drum battery in a symphony or to<br />
play maracas or bongos in a symphonic poem . . . constitutes the greatest blasphemy, the<br />
worst affront that can be inflicted on the music <strong>of</strong> the fatherland.” 26 In this respect he<br />
disagreed with his compatriot Roldán, whose La rebambaramba incorporated maracas,<br />
quijada, bongos, and güiro. Bembé is marked by sesquialtera, a type <strong>of</strong> hemiola usually<br />
in 6/8 that either alternates or superimposes duple and triple meter within a group <strong>of</strong> six<br />
eighth notes. Though this metric pattern has a long history in Spain, it has <strong>of</strong>ten been seen<br />
as deriving more immediately from the Americas, particularly the Caribbean. As such, it<br />
forms what Peter Manuel called an “iconic Latin-<strong>American</strong>ism” that pervaded elements<br />
25 Hughes’s later associations with Caturla and Roldán are discussed in Chapter 4.<br />
26 Translated by and quoted in Charles W. White, Alejandro García Caturla: A Cuban Composer in the<br />
Twentieth Century, (Lanham, MD: <strong>The</strong> Scarecrow Press, 2003), 56.<br />
103
<strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> popular culture in the twentieth century. 27 Other types <strong>of</strong> polyrhythms are<br />
present in the lively percussion writing that captured critics’ attention. In measures 83-85,<br />
for example, Caturla assigned different subdivisions <strong>of</strong> the beat to the suspended cymbal,<br />
snare drum, and bass drum, which exchanged rhythms in each measure (Example 3.3).<br />
Example 3.3. Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé: An Afro-Cuban Movement, mm. 83-87 (Paris: Senart,<br />
1930), 9.<br />
With its infectious Afro-Cuban charm, Bembé was well received in Paris. Vuillermoz<br />
called it “full <strong>of</strong> frenzied life and an irresistible magic.” Paul Dambly wrote that it<br />
brought out “the warmth <strong>of</strong> the Cuban native.” Even Prunières considered it “not wholly<br />
lacking in interest.”<br />
Another work on the June 11 concert that had previously been performed was<br />
Wallingford Riegger’s Three Canons for Woodwinds (1930). Adolph Weiss had<br />
conducted the chamber work on a PAAC concert in New York on March 10, 1931. It was<br />
published in New Music in July 1932, an edition that contained biographical notes in<br />
27 This is evident in such works as Leonard Bernstein’s West Side Story: “I like to live in Ame-ri-ca.”<br />
104
which Riegger explained his conservative Midwestern musical upbringing and his<br />
subsequent conversion to atonality. He recalled both hissing with youthful intolerance at<br />
the premiere <strong>of</strong> Scriabin’s Poème de l’extase as well as hearing his own Study in Sonority<br />
hissed at at its Philadelphia debut in 1929. Part <strong>of</strong> the first graduating class (1907) <strong>of</strong> the<br />
Institute <strong>of</strong> Musical Art, Riegger (1885-1961) went on to study at the Berlin Hochschule<br />
für Musik. Three Canons exemplifies Richard Franko Goldman’s description <strong>of</strong><br />
Riegger’s music as “clarity without naïveté, force without bombast . . . independence<br />
without rootlessness.” 28 <strong>The</strong> work is scored for flute, oboe, clarinet, and bassoon. <strong>The</strong>se<br />
are not strict canons but rather loose structures built from gestures playfully exchanged<br />
between instruments, as in Example 3.4. As Slonimsky wrote in the program notes for<br />
June 11, Riegger “never abandon[ed] musical expression in favor <strong>of</strong> a principle.” Riegger<br />
has described Three Canons and a few <strong>of</strong> his other works as being based on “dissonant<br />
harmonies <strong>of</strong> motion and repose” (dominant and tonic in function). Similarly, he<br />
attributed his penchant for contrapuntal writing to a “return to the kinetic origins <strong>of</strong><br />
music.” With this he joined Varèse and Cowell in writing music that was either<br />
composed for or adapted to choreography by Martha Graham, Charles Weidman, Hanya<br />
Holm and other pioneers <strong>of</strong> modern dance. Of the June 11 performance, Slonimsky wrote<br />
to Cowell, “there was a slight demonstration against Riegger’s canons.” Vuillermoz, one<br />
<strong>of</strong> the few reviewers to comment on the work, wrote that it was “written in such a<br />
harassed and roundabout way that it was hardly a pleasure for their listener to follow the<br />
intricate pattern <strong>of</strong> the themes.”<br />
28 Richard F. Goldman and Wallingford Riegger, “<strong>The</strong> Music <strong>of</strong> Wallingford Riegger,” <strong>The</strong> Musical<br />
Quarterly 36/1 (January 1950), 50.<br />
105
Example 3.4. Wallingford Riegger, Three Canons for Woodwinds, mm. 21-25. (San Francisco, CA: New<br />
Music, 1932), 4.<br />
<strong>The</strong> final piece performed on the evening <strong>of</strong> June 11 was Varèse’s Intègrales,<br />
which, according to Slonimsky, “brought down the house.” Intègrales had premiered on<br />
an ICG concert in 1925. <strong>The</strong> work was different than any other on the two programs.<br />
Consistent with Varèse’s other works <strong>of</strong> the period, Integrales strictly avoids thematic<br />
development, focusing instead on movement <strong>of</strong> sound masses. Despite this radically new<br />
concept, the critics’ comments show that they had intimate knowledge <strong>of</strong> the score and <strong>of</strong><br />
Varèse’s aims. Indeed, he was close friends with several <strong>of</strong> them, and their reviews bear<br />
one striking resemblance to each other: they all stressed the work’s expressive power as<br />
well as its intellectual qualities. Le Flem posited, “One might almost call [Intègrales]<br />
scientific, were it not for the sensitive feeling.” Coeuroy wrote that it “managed to create<br />
an impression both lyrical and cerebral.” Vuillermoz enthused, “In spite <strong>of</strong> its scientific<br />
title, this composition is not purely cerebral. It is perhaps the most human <strong>of</strong> all those we<br />
heard.” Schloezer countered claims that Intègrales was “not music” by asserting that the<br />
work “unfolds itself not in time, but exists simply in space. <strong>The</strong> sounds and noises are<br />
organized and consequently, [the work] is music.”<br />
Overall, the critics shared favorable impressions <strong>of</strong> these concerts. <strong>The</strong> most<br />
admiring reviews came from Emile Vuillermoz (1878-1960), French composer and critic<br />
and friend <strong>of</strong> Varèse. In his youth, Vuillermoz had been a member <strong>of</strong> Les Apaches, an<br />
informal group <strong>of</strong> Parisian musicians, painters, and critics who took the name <strong>of</strong> the<br />
106
Native <strong>American</strong> tribe to symbolize their artistic independence. 29 Of the first concert he<br />
praised the “frankness and real youthful spirit” with which <strong>American</strong>s approached<br />
composition, as well as their “primitive instincts, spontaneity, and happy innocence,” 30 he<br />
found lacking in contemporary French music. After the June 11 concert Vuillermoz<br />
enthused that all the works presented “abound with generosity sincerity, [and] vitality.”<br />
He found Ives’s Three Places in New England particularly refreshing, especially the “real<br />
discovery” <strong>of</strong> polytonality in the clashing village bands <strong>of</strong> the second movement.<br />
On the differences between <strong>American</strong> and European composers, Parisian<br />
reviewers also had much to say. Some, such as Le Flem, seemed both delighted to hear<br />
new works from the Americas and was indignant at the PAAC’s motives in presenting<br />
them. He was blunt: “I even suspect them <strong>of</strong> feeling a little sorry for poor Europe. <strong>The</strong>y<br />
think that its great era will soon be over and that it will then hand its jurisdiction and its<br />
high artistic command to newer countries where tradition bears less weight.” Raymond<br />
Petit echoed this sentiment while simultaneously inveighing against modern European<br />
music. Of the <strong>American</strong>s, he wrote, “<strong>The</strong>y claim to turn their backs on Europe, and <strong>of</strong>ten<br />
they do nothing but fall into its furrow. I thought more than once during these two<br />
evenings <strong>of</strong> the eternal history <strong>of</strong> the cyclist and the gas-burner.” 31<br />
Critics also expressed strong opinions on the similarities and differences between<br />
composers in the Americas as presented in these concerts. Overall, they found the Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong>s less shackled to academic modernism than their U.S. counterparts. But some<br />
reviews dared to draw comparisons between these composers <strong>of</strong> very different<br />
tendencies. Schloezer identified one characteristic common among all the composers: a<br />
love for the quality <strong>of</strong> sound. “Fundamentally, there is no difference between the<br />
<strong>American</strong> composer who studies at the Conservatory in Fontainebleau and the one who<br />
follows in the wake <strong>of</strong> Schoenberg and uses atonality to the last degree. All <strong>of</strong> these<br />
29 Members <strong>of</strong> Les Apaches saw indigenous folksong and children’s songs as primary sources <strong>of</strong> artistic<br />
renewal and considered Debussy a musical prophet. <strong>The</strong>y held meetings in each other’s homes to discuss<br />
aesthetics and work on collaborative projects. Composer members included Maurice Ravel, Maurice<br />
Delage, Igor Stravinsky, and Florent Schmitt.<br />
30 Emile Vuillermoz, Excelsior (June 8, 1931) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
31 Referring to Stravinsky and Schoenberg.<br />
107
musicians seem to turn their invention and ideal towards an orgy <strong>of</strong> sound!” 32 Several<br />
other critics agreed.<br />
<strong>The</strong> PAAC’s first attempt to stir up interest in <strong>American</strong> composition abroad was<br />
successful in surprising ways. In January 1932 Ives received a letter from the Director <strong>of</strong><br />
a newly formed Department <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> Music in <strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong> Library in Paris,<br />
requesting copies <strong>of</strong> his works. Her purpose, she wrote to Ives, was to create a collection<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music in Paris, “where <strong>American</strong> compositions attract more and more<br />
attention. We are very anxious to have the works <strong>of</strong> the most important and<br />
representative <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> composers, especially <strong>of</strong> the modern ones.” 33<br />
Paris, February 21 and 25, 1932<br />
Given the success <strong>of</strong> the 1931 concerts with the public and critics alike, a<br />
comparison between the 1931 and 1932 Paris programs shows stark differences in<br />
repertoire. <strong>The</strong> 1931 concerts featured, above all, the principle <strong>of</strong> collective difference.<br />
Almost half <strong>of</strong> the works performed in the 1931 concerts were Latin <strong>American</strong>. Though<br />
each work posited its own style, each was unapologetically modern, and, with the<br />
exception <strong>of</strong> Three Places in New England, all had been composed since 1924. Attention,<br />
good or bad, was the PAAC’s goal, and its organizers courted critical opprobrium.<br />
Slonimsky was pleased that “irrespective <strong>of</strong> praise or condemnation, we got the attention<br />
<strong>of</strong> all musical and intellectual Paris.” 34 In 1932 the venue changed as well. Instead <strong>of</strong> the<br />
smaller Salle Gaveau, the 1932 events were held in the 2,400-seat Salle Pleyel, which had<br />
been completed in 1927.<br />
According to Slonimsky in a 1974 interview with Rita Mead, the 1932 programs<br />
were more conservative because the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> did not technically<br />
sponsor them. He said that the 1932 Paris concerts were “Not <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concerts. I<br />
made such a resounding success [in 1931], mostly because critics couldn’t understand<br />
how anyone could conduct those pieces.” <strong>The</strong> 1932 events, he explained, were<br />
32 Boris de Schloezer, Les Beaux-Arts, June 26, 1931 Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
33 Letter from Claire Huchet to Charles Ives, January 8, 1932. Cowell Papers.<br />
34 Letter from Nicolas Slonimsky to Henry Cowell, Paris, June 23, 1931. Cowell Papers.<br />
108
“something commercial. . . . my managers hired the Orchestre Symphonique de Paris. . .<br />
[and] they asked Rubenstein. <strong>The</strong>y wanted some attraction and since my program<br />
contained Varèse and Ives and stuff like that, they realized that wouldn’t bring in any<br />
money, and so they consented to do the Bartók because we had to have it modern.”<br />
Indeed, the program does not mention the PAAC (see Figure 3.1), and the presence <strong>of</strong><br />
Brahms, Mussorgsky, and Mozart would preclude any notion <strong>of</strong> this being a strictly<br />
PAAC-sponsored event. Slonimsky goes on to say, however, “Ives paid for the<br />
rehearsals, and so the concert took place. <strong>The</strong> same arrangement was made in Berlin.” 35 I<br />
have included a discussion <strong>of</strong> the 1932 Paris concerts here for three reasons: Ives partially<br />
funded them; six out <strong>of</strong> the eleven works performed were from the PAAC repertoire; and<br />
critics treated these events as an extension <strong>of</strong> the previous season’s concerts.<br />
Both 1932 concerts began with Mozart. On February 21, his Serenade No. 3 in D<br />
(1773) was followed by Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain and Béla Bartók’s<br />
performance <strong>of</strong> his first Piano Concerto. Next, Slonimsky presented a new suite <strong>of</strong> Ives<br />
pieces, comprised <strong>of</strong> “In the Cage,” from his Set for <strong>The</strong>atre Orchestra, “<strong>The</strong> Fourth <strong>of</strong><br />
July” from his Holidays Symphony, and “Elegy” from his Orchestral Set No. 2. 36 “In the<br />
Cage” is an orchestration <strong>of</strong> a song Ives wrote in 1906 entitled “<strong>The</strong> Cage.” In his<br />
Memos, Ives called the original song “a study <strong>of</strong> how chords <strong>of</strong> fourths and fifths may<br />
throw melodies away from a set tonality. A drum is supposed to be the leopard’s feet<br />
going pro and con. Technically, the principal thing in this movement is to show that a<br />
song does not necessarily have to be in any one key to make musical sense.” 37<br />
Unfortunately, it did not make much sense to some Parisian critics. A correspondent for<br />
the Chicago Tribune was left wondering “whether it had begun or ended.” 38 <strong>The</strong> critic for<br />
Le Ménestrel was similarly perplexed: “If it is the ennui <strong>of</strong> living that the author has<br />
pretended to translate musically, then he has succeeded perfectly.” 39 “<strong>The</strong> Fourth <strong>of</strong><br />
35 Nicolas Slonimsky interview with Rita Mead, October 29, 1974. Cowell Papers. <strong>The</strong> Berlin concerts, a<br />
month after the Paris concerts in 1932, were clearly presented as PAAC events.<br />
36 Conceived as Elegy for Stephen Foster and later titled Elegy to Our Forefathers.<br />
37 Charles Ives, Memos, ed. John Kirkpatrick (New York: W.W. Norton, 1991), 56.<br />
38 Not signed, “Review” Chicago Tribune (Paris) February 24, 1932 Cowell Papers.<br />
39 Marcel Belvianes, Le menestrel (February 26, 1932) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
109
July,” with its quotations from traditional songs and layering <strong>of</strong> independent and<br />
contrasting elements, fared better. Belvianes described it as a “musical evocation,<br />
picturesque and amusing, <strong>of</strong> the sounds <strong>of</strong> a vast crowd in a joyous celebration.” 40<br />
Cowell’s Appositions, like his Synchrony, represented his experiments with the<br />
respective roles <strong>of</strong> music and dance. <strong>The</strong> one-movement version for orchestra that<br />
Slonimsky conducted on this concert is now lost. Two arrangements survive, however:<br />
one for piano and another for two violins, viola, cello, and bass. Both surviving versions<br />
are in two movements. <strong>The</strong> orchestral work, if it resembles the string reduction, is a play<br />
on rapidly alternating statements <strong>of</strong> instrument groups. This is apparent in the first two<br />
systems <strong>of</strong> the string score, shown in Example 3.5.<br />
Figure 3.1. Concert program. Paris, February 21, 1932 (Cowell Papers, New York Public Library for the<br />
Performing Arts).<br />
40 Ibid.<br />
110
Example 3.5. Henry Cowell, Two Appositions, first movement, mm. 1-7.<br />
It is a pity the orchestral score is lost, since the reviewers commented only on Cowell’s<br />
unusual orchestration. One wrote that Appositions “discloses this musician’s devotion to<br />
the cause <strong>of</strong> the new in instrumental combinations.” 41 Another mentioned only that it was<br />
“orchestrated in a very up-to-date manner.” 42 Unfortunately, Slonimsky wrote nothing<br />
about the work in his program notes.<br />
Appositions was followed by the first and third movements <strong>of</strong> Dane Rudhyar’s To<br />
the Real: Symphonic Triptych (1919-20), “Passion” and “Initiation.” Like Varèse and<br />
Salzedo, Rudhyar was a French expatriate and naturalized <strong>American</strong>. Also a poet, painter,<br />
theosophist, and aesthetician, Rudhyar was heavily influenced by the work <strong>of</strong> philosopher<br />
Henri Bergson. Unlike some <strong>of</strong> his PAAC colleagues, he was decidedly unsystematic in<br />
his approach to dissonance, choosing to view himself not as an intentional composer but<br />
41 Not signed, Chicago Tribune (Paris, February 24, 1932) Cowell Papers.<br />
42 Marcel Belvianes, Le Ménestrel (February 26, 1932) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
111
as a medium. Slonimsky described To the Real as being based on “a simple liturgical<br />
melody, which develops and is affirmed in a final apotheosis.” 43 <strong>The</strong> work went without<br />
critical comment.<br />
Caturla’s Tres danzas cubanas ended the first program. This work was<br />
orchestrated as part <strong>of</strong> Caturla’s studies with Nadia Boulanger between 1925 and 1927.<br />
Even before he left Paris, it was published by Senart. Tres danzas is composed for a very<br />
large orchestra. Like Bembé, however, it does not utilize Afro-Cuban percussion. Instead,<br />
it uses a battery comprised <strong>of</strong> timpani, triangle, tenor drum, cymbal, bass drum, and tam-<br />
tam to evoke Afro-Cuban dance. Curiously, critics mainly ignored this work; because <strong>of</strong><br />
its striking differences to the Cowell, Rudhyar, and Varèse pieces they likely did not<br />
know how to contextualize it in order to comment on the <strong>American</strong> works as a whole.<br />
Only two <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> works were given on the February 25 concert. Nestled<br />
between Mozart’s Symphony No. 1 and Milhaud’s Seconde suite symphonique<br />
(“Protee”), which Prunières wrote seemed “purely classic by comparison” to the<br />
<strong>American</strong> works, 44 was Ruggles’s Sun-treader, what Charles Seeger called the magnum<br />
opus <strong>of</strong> Ruggles’s mature period. This work resembles the late-Romanticism <strong>of</strong> Strauss<br />
or Wagner without their lushness; it requires a very large orchestra with heavy brass and<br />
is stridently dissonant. In it, Ruggles strove for sustained melodic lines with non-serial<br />
avoidance <strong>of</strong> repeated tones. As in many methods used by the PAAC’s U.S. contingent,<br />
his technique <strong>of</strong> avoiding repetition exemplified experimental or quasi-scientific methods<br />
<strong>of</strong> composition. Seeger explained, however, that Ruggles considered a melody with many<br />
repeated tones “likely to exhibit functional weakness, a lack <strong>of</strong> melodic momentum.” 45<br />
Despite the scientific veneer and the historical ties evident in its rigorous counterpoint,<br />
the primary objective, as in many works by Cowell and Varèse, was to express movement<br />
in sound. Such a conception was alien to Parisian reviewers, many <strong>of</strong> whom declined to<br />
comment. One simply wrote, “Of this work I should like to speak neither good nor ill; I<br />
43 Nicolas Slonimsky, Program notes, February 25, 1932. Cowell Papers.<br />
44 Henry Prunières, “Electra in Paris/Concerts and Other Things,” New York Times (March 20, 1932), X7.<br />
45 Charles Seeger, “Carl Ruggles,” 587.<br />
112
prefer to admit that it left absolutely no impression with me.” 46 After Sun-treader Artur<br />
Rubinstein played Brahms’s second Piano Concerto. <strong>The</strong> program ended with a work by<br />
Varèse, who was again hailed as the highlight <strong>of</strong> the series. While in 1931 critics had<br />
emphasized the emotional qualities <strong>of</strong> Intègrales, they treated Arcana, with its shrill,<br />
metallic sonorities, as futuristic machine music. Belvianes wrote that Arcana was well<br />
“suited for the translation <strong>of</strong> the intense machine-life <strong>of</strong> the modern world. . . . [Varèse’s]<br />
themes are quick and powerful, his orchestration brutal; there is a hardness, a clashing, as<br />
<strong>of</strong> forces that set a machine into action. <strong>The</strong> orchestra [gave] this work great power and<br />
movement.” 47<br />
Attempting to find common threads among the <strong>American</strong> works, Florent Schmitt<br />
concluded, “all <strong>of</strong> this music <strong>of</strong> composers who, in the immense United States <strong>of</strong><br />
America are probably ignorant <strong>of</strong> one another’s use <strong>of</strong> the same procedure; all <strong>of</strong> this<br />
music, whether called Appositions, Toward the Real, or Cuban Dances . . . has a family<br />
resemblance that appears to be the result <strong>of</strong> close collaboration.” 48 What Schmitt meant<br />
by this is unclear. He may have decided that these works similarly emphasized the<br />
depiction <strong>of</strong> movement in sound, whether in abstract gestures or dance. This seems a<br />
stretch. No Parisian commentators, however, would go as far to find similarities between<br />
PAAC works as critics in Berlin.<br />
Berlin, March 5 and 10, 1932<br />
After World War I Berlin became one <strong>of</strong> the major musical centers <strong>of</strong> the world<br />
due to the progressive musical policies <strong>of</strong> politician and music education reformer Leo<br />
Kestenberg during the Weimar Republic. Works by such composers as Bartók,<br />
Stravinsky, Prok<strong>of</strong>iev, Milhaud and Honegger received important premières in Germany.<br />
Notable musicians who lived in the city between 1927 and 1932 included Schoenberg,<br />
Alexander von Zemlinsky, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Erich Kleiber, Otto Klemperer, Paul<br />
Hindemith, Kurt Weill and Hanns Eisler. Despite the work <strong>of</strong> such musical progressives,<br />
46 Marcel Belvianes, Le Ménestrel (March 4, 1932) Unattributed translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
47 Ibid.<br />
48 Florent Schmitt, Le temps (February 27, 1932) Unattributed translation and original found in Cowell<br />
Papers.<br />
113
a generation <strong>of</strong> older composers including Richard Strauss and Hans Pfitzner, sought a<br />
return to Romantic ideals and an emphasis on a specifically German culture as opposed to<br />
internationalism. <strong>The</strong> younger generation, too, was divided. Schoenberg, who had been<br />
teaching in Berlin since 1925, favored the development <strong>of</strong> dodecaphony and<br />
expressionism. Proponents <strong>of</strong> neue Sachlichkeit (new objectivity), on the other hand, such<br />
as Paul Hindemith, turned away from music for art’s sake for a time and focused on<br />
Gebrauchsmusik (music for use), which included composing for the cinema, radio,<br />
amateurs, and children. Into this fray came foreign conductors and artists who were<br />
welcomed by proponents <strong>of</strong> internationalism and <strong>of</strong>ten shunned by more conservative<br />
members <strong>of</strong> Berlin’s musical life. Joel Sachs has written eloquently on the polarization <strong>of</strong><br />
musical ideology in the Weimar Republic. 49 This situation had implications for the<br />
reception <strong>of</strong> the PAAC’s music in Berlin and Cowell planned accordingly. He asked<br />
Slonimsky to “be careful in the programs not to be too Parisian in Berlin!” 50 Cowell<br />
knew that his own work and that <strong>of</strong> Ruggles and Weiss would be well received there.<br />
On March 5, 1932, Slonimsky conducted the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra in<br />
Beethoven Hall. On March 10 he led the Michael Taube Chamber Orchestra in the<br />
Bechstein Hall. <strong>The</strong> bifurcation <strong>of</strong> musical life in Berlin is evident in the reviews <strong>of</strong> the<br />
1932 concerts. H. H. Stuckenschmidt and Josef Rufer, both students <strong>of</strong> Schoenberg and<br />
prominent music critics, reserved their praise for Weiss and Cowell, both among the<br />
composers who had fared worst in Paris. Other Berlin reviewers show a conservative<br />
reluctance to hear the pieces on their own terms, unlike Parisian critics, who were more<br />
willing to accept the works at face value. Ludwig Misch, noted scholar <strong>of</strong> Beethoven and<br />
Brahms, concluded simply, “<strong>Pan</strong>-America makes music, but not very nice music.” 51<br />
Decades later Sidney Robertson Cowell explained how the PAAC’s strategy for<br />
presenting two concerts in each location sometimes had unintended consequences:<br />
49 Joel Sachs, “Some Aspects <strong>of</strong> Musical Politics in Pre-Nazi Germany,” Perspectives <strong>of</strong> New Music 9/1<br />
(Autumn-Winter 1970), 74-95.<br />
50 Henry Cowell to Slonimsky, Berlin, (November 16, 1931) Cowell Papers.<br />
51 Ives would have taken much pride in this statement. He frequently wrote disparagingly in his Memos<br />
about such “nice music.”<br />
114
[Cowell] tried to arrange two concerts in the chief halls <strong>of</strong> any major musical<br />
center, usually a week or two apart, with the idea that after critics had had their<br />
fun and the initial shock had worn <strong>of</strong>f, a second performance might draw people<br />
who would really hear the music itself. On the continent this was <strong>of</strong>ten true, but in<br />
England and the U.S. the sense <strong>of</strong> outrage had a moral tinge and seemed to<br />
increase in the interval.<br />
Since the PAAC never presented a concert in England, perhaps she was remembering<br />
Cowell’s solo recitals <strong>of</strong> the 1920s. Regardless, this backfire certainly happened in<br />
Berlin.<br />
<strong>The</strong> earliest reviews were mixed, but even critics who judged the music<br />
distasteful found something to praise. Many <strong>of</strong> them expressed appreciation for the<br />
PAAC’s efforts and attempted to explain to their readers that the pieces represented a<br />
new tendency toward “naturalism.” 52 A critic for the Vossische Zeitung suggested the<br />
audience’s noisy protests “might have made Arnold Schoenberg jealous.” He asserted,<br />
“Something is happening in America, while we, here in Europe, must wonder about our<br />
own stagnation.” 53 Another conceded, “One left the hall with demonstrations <strong>of</strong> laughter,<br />
whistling, applause, but no one was bored.” 54 Others, however, were more dubious. One<br />
critic lambasted the PAAC for their presumption: “Evidently a sort <strong>of</strong> business<br />
undertaking . . . <strong>The</strong> society has nothing to do with composers, for nothing more<br />
disagreeable or presumptive than this band <strong>of</strong> dilettante noise-makers has ever been<br />
experienced in a German concert hall . . . [this is] a music in every respect hideous and<br />
without culture.” 55<br />
As in the first Paris concert <strong>of</strong> 1931, Slonimsky opened the first Berlin program<br />
with <strong>American</strong> Life. Heinrich Strobel praised Weiss’s combination <strong>of</strong> jazz elements with<br />
52 Two different authors used the term Natürlichkeit. One hurled it as an insult: “Does the modern tempo <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>American</strong> cities serve as a prototype? This leads only to ridiculous naturalism.” Another used it as an<br />
explanation <strong>of</strong> futuristic sounds: “We see the manifestation <strong>of</strong> a new naturalism, which attempts to recreate<br />
the sounds <strong>of</strong> noises, <strong>of</strong> the naturalism <strong>of</strong> a metropolis.”<br />
53 M.M., Vossische Zeitung (March 6, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
54 Stuckenschmidt, BZ am Mittag (March 7, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
55 Momus, Das kleine Journal (March 7, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
115
the twelve-tone system. Roldán’s La Rebambaramba was fairly well received, but mostly<br />
because it was such a contrast to the ultramodern works. Strobel wrote, “it might not be<br />
very original, but it has something to do with music.” Sun-treader spurred one reviewer<br />
to write one <strong>of</strong> the twentieth century’s most colorful pieces <strong>of</strong> invective: “<strong>The</strong> Sun-<br />
treader <strong>of</strong> Ruggles should have been called Latrine-treader.” 56 <strong>The</strong> more progressive<br />
critics welcomed Cowell’s Synchrony and Varèse’s Arcana, praising their methodic<br />
construction.<br />
As the week wore on, critics became less charitable and more resentful. Reviews<br />
that followed the second concert were unanimously negative. Ruth Crawford’s songs<br />
“Rat Riddles” and “In High Grass” were applauded “in recognition <strong>of</strong> the soloist rather<br />
than <strong>of</strong> the eccentricities <strong>of</strong> the music.” 57 Fritz Ohrmann <strong>of</strong> Signale wrote that the<br />
program consisted <strong>of</strong> “non-music <strong>of</strong> the worst kind. I was soon out <strong>of</strong> the hall.” 58 Another<br />
indignant reviewer felt justified in commenting on a performance he did not even attend:<br />
“<strong>The</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> is nothing more than a business enterprise that<br />
speculates on the lack <strong>of</strong> judgment <strong>of</strong> the public to sell its wares. <strong>The</strong>re was a second<br />
evening in the Bechsteinsaal. It was a matter <strong>of</strong> honor to remain distant.” 59 Still others,<br />
missing the point <strong>of</strong> the experimental aspect <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong>ism, suggested the composers<br />
remediate themselves: “<strong>The</strong>re is hope that thorough study <strong>of</strong> the classics will help them to<br />
a higher artistic plane.” 60 Such assessments are clearly loaded with conservative political<br />
ideology. Revealing a hint <strong>of</strong> the rising German spirit <strong>of</strong> Kultur, a national, not personal,<br />
body <strong>of</strong> ideas and attitudes that would be distorted and used to bring the Nazi regime to<br />
power, one author for the Berliner Boersenzeitung had been disappointed to find “not a<br />
single characteristic feature. Nowhere is to be felt a center or common trait that might be<br />
56 Paul Schwers, Allgemeine Musikzeitung, Berlin, March 18, 1932. Weiss’s translation: “<strong>The</strong> Sun Treader<br />
<strong>of</strong> Ruggles ought to be rechristened Urinal Treader.” Slonimsky’s version above, found in his Lexicon <strong>of</strong><br />
Musical Invective, is most <strong>of</strong>ten quoted.<br />
57 Ilse, Berliner Fremdenzeitung (March 14, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
58 Fritz Ohrmann, Signale (March 16, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
59 Paul Zschorlich, Deutsche Zeitung (Berlin; March 18, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
60 Al. Hi., Neue Zeit des Westens (March 19, 1932) Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
116
egarded an artistic mark <strong>of</strong> the white race in America.” 61 <strong>The</strong> PAAC’s organizers,<br />
particularly Cowell, regarded their strategy <strong>of</strong> collective difference to have tremendous<br />
potency. This approach worked decidedly against them, however, in a Germany that in a<br />
few months would elect the National Socialist German Worker’s Party as the leading<br />
party <strong>of</strong> the Reichstag. German national cultural ideology was directly opposed to the<br />
PAAC’s internationalist mission to seek out and celebrate individual experiment and<br />
innovation in the Americas.<br />
Conservative German critics could neither find threads tying the PAAC works<br />
together nor understand the juxtaposition <strong>of</strong> seemingly incompatible musical idioms in<br />
the same piece. Walther Hirschberg assessed the whole affair as a miasma <strong>of</strong><br />
“Geschmacksverirrung und Geschmacksverwirrung” (error <strong>of</strong> taste and confusion <strong>of</strong><br />
taste). He was likely referring both to the programs as a whole and to works such as<br />
Riegger’s Dichotomy, in which the composer consciously mitigated the rigidity <strong>of</strong> his<br />
twelve-tone melodies with less rational, more expressive harmonic support. Hirschberg<br />
concluded, “[<strong>The</strong>se works] did not seem to me to possess any artistic value that only one<br />
discussion would justify.” 62 Hugo Leichtentritt echoed this criticism a few months later:<br />
“<strong>The</strong> orchestral compositions by Weiss, Ives, Roldán, Ruggles, Cowell, and Varèse were<br />
different in style, tendency, and artistic value, proving that these composers had hardly<br />
any aesthetic basis or any feeling for culture in sound.” 63 Whereas just two decades<br />
before, many <strong>of</strong> Berlin’s critics would have lauded attempts at innovation and approved<br />
<strong>of</strong> experiment, the conservative musical atmosphere <strong>of</strong> Gebrauchsmusik and national<br />
socialism between the World Wars prevented them from finding much usefulness or<br />
cohesion on the PAAC’s programs.<br />
Other European Concerts 1931-1932<br />
On November 23, 1931, Pedro Sanjuán conducted members <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta<br />
Sinfónica de Madrid in a chamber concert at the Teatro de la Comedia. Madrid was not<br />
unaccustomed to hearing contemporary music. <strong>The</strong> Sociedad Nacional de Música<br />
61 Not signed, Berliner Boersenzeitung (no date), Weiss’s translation found in Cowell Papers.<br />
62 Walther Hirschberg, Signale für die musikalische Welt (March 9, 1932), 212 (my translation).<br />
63 Hugo Leichtentritt, Musical Times 73/1071 (May 1, 1932), 463 (my translation).<br />
117
sponsored many concerts <strong>of</strong> new French and Spanish music throughout the 1920s and<br />
well into the 1930s, making Madrid an important center for new music in Spain. Sanjuán<br />
presented Riegger’s Study in Sonority for ten violins, Ruggles’s Portals, his own Sones<br />
de Castilla, and Cowell’s Symphonietta. According to Sanjuán, the concert was more or<br />
less a success despite various obstacles in its preparation. In October, he had written to<br />
Cowell that he wished to cancel the concert due to the uncertain political situation in<br />
Spain. 64 Sanjuán changed his mind, however, and the performance took place the<br />
following month. Unfortunately, there were other unforeseen problems. <strong>The</strong> program<br />
originally included a work by Ives (probably Washington’s Birthday) and pieces by<br />
Roldán and Caturla. On rehearsing the Ives, members <strong>of</strong> the orchestra protested that the<br />
parts were confusing and the notes were too small. Also, the scores by Roldán and<br />
Caturla that Sanjuán had planned to conduct never arrived. <strong>The</strong> final program consisted<br />
<strong>of</strong> the four pieces listed above by Riegger, Ruggles, Cowell, and Sanjuán (shown in<br />
Figure 3.2).<br />
<strong>The</strong> absence <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> composers on a concert specifically billed as<br />
“<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>” irritated the critics; two <strong>of</strong> them began their reviews by noting that the<br />
concert seemed “the application <strong>of</strong> the Monroe Doctrine in the North <strong>American</strong> manner”;<br />
that is, that “<strong>Pan</strong>-America is only for North <strong>American</strong>s.” 65 Of the <strong>American</strong> pieces, the<br />
critics liked only Riegger’s Study in Sonority for ten violins (or any multiple <strong>of</strong> ten). This<br />
work alternates a unison melody with thick chordal textures that are highly dissonant.<br />
This is the same work that had been hissed when Stokowski performed it with the<br />
Philadelphia Orchestra in 1929. One critic found in both Riegger and Sanjuán “an<br />
authentic modernism,” 66 as opposed to the works by Cowell and Ruggles.<br />
64 In 1931 economic troubles rapidly turned Spain upside down. <strong>The</strong> previous year Dictator Primo de<br />
Rivera lost the support <strong>of</strong> the military and was forced out <strong>of</strong> <strong>of</strong>fice. In April 1931 King Alfonso XIII, who<br />
had endorsed Rivera’s dictatorship, fled the country after Republicans won local and municipal elections<br />
and declared the Second Spanish Republic. <strong>The</strong> Republic did not have a constitution or stable leadership<br />
until December. In October, Sanjuán wrote to Cowell, “Political uncertainty completely absorbs the<br />
people’s attention: concert halls are empty.”<br />
65 Adolfo Salazar, “La vida musical/Musica <strong>Pan</strong>americana y española—Orquesta sinfónica.” El sol<br />
(November 24, 1931) and Juan del Brezo, “Concierto de Música <strong>Pan</strong>americana,” La voz (November 24,<br />
1931) Cowell Papers (my translation).<br />
66 Adolfo Salazar, El sol (November 24, 1931) Cowell Papers (my translation).<br />
118
In December 1931 Imre Weisshaus, who had settled in Dessau, presented two<br />
concerts at the Bauhaus. 67 Both programs follow in Figure 3.3. <strong>The</strong> first concert on<br />
December 1 featured works by <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> composers. Among the PAAC regulars<br />
(Riegger, Chávez, Weiss, Cowell, Ives, and Rudhyar) were newcomers Vivian Fine,<br />
Henry Brant, and Gerald Strang. <strong>The</strong> piano works are unspecified on the program, but<br />
Cowell wrote to Ives on November 28 to tell him that Weisshaus would be performing<br />
the “Emerson” movement <strong>of</strong> his Piano Sonata No. 2 “Concord Mass., 1840-1860.”<br />
Cowell wrote to his parents, “<strong>The</strong> program at the Bauhaus went wonderfully – hall filled<br />
– students roared with delight over my pieces, and demanded encore after encore. I<br />
played six, and then stopped against the will <strong>of</strong> the audience. Kandinsky was delighted,<br />
and asked to be remembered to you.” 68<br />
67 Imre Weisshaus (1905-1987) was a Hungarian pianist, composer, and ethnomusicologist. He studied with<br />
Bartók from 1921-1924 and was a member <strong>of</strong> Blanche Walton’s circle in New York. Weisshaus settled in<br />
Germany in 1931 and led musical activities at the Bauhaus in Dessau. He is <strong>of</strong>ten known by a pseudonym,<br />
Paul Arma. <strong>The</strong> Bauhaus was located at Dessau from 1925-1932.<br />
68 Henry Cowell to Harry and Olive Cowell, December 4, 1931. Artist Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944)<br />
taught at the Bauhaus from 1922 until 1933.<br />
119
Figure 3.2. Concert program. Madrid, November 23, 1931 (Cowell Papers).<br />
120
Figure 3.3. Concert program. Bauhaus, Dessau, December 1, 3, and 12, 1931 (Cowell Papers).<br />
<strong>The</strong> second evening concert, though dedicated to European composers, included a work<br />
by Caturla. Evidently either Weisshaus thought Caturla was Spanish or he deemed the<br />
work a better fit within a European, rather than <strong>American</strong>, context.<br />
A few days later, on December 8, Cowell gave a performance <strong>of</strong> piano works at<br />
the <strong>of</strong>fices <strong>of</strong> the Edition Adler in Berlin, a publishing house that issued <strong>American</strong> scores<br />
121
in collaboration with Cowell’s New Music Society. 69 After an introduction by H. H.<br />
Stuckenschmidt, Cowell lectured on <strong>American</strong> music and then gave a short recital. He<br />
described the event as “the Berlin repetition <strong>of</strong> the Dessau concert . . . and there will be<br />
other <strong>Pan</strong>-Am music,” 70 but he did not mention Weisshaus’s presence or which works,<br />
besides his, were performed.<br />
On February 21, 1932, the same date as Slonimsky’s first Paris concert <strong>of</strong> the<br />
1932 season, Anton Webern led a group <strong>of</strong> musicians from the Austrian chapter <strong>of</strong> the<br />
ISCM in a concert <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> works in the Wiener Konzerthaus. Figure 9 shows<br />
the program. <strong>The</strong> event was sponsored by the <strong>American</strong> ambassador to Austria, Gilchrist<br />
Baker Stockton, and included an introductory lecture by Paul Stefan, who later wrote a<br />
review for Musical America. According to Stefan, the evening was “in every respect a<br />
very gratifying program.” 71 Audience favorites were Cowell’s Sinfonietta and Ruggles’<br />
Portals, which was repeated. Webern wrote that Weiss’s chamber symphony “went<br />
perfectly, faultlessly.” 72 Erwin Stein observed, “there is as little uniformity <strong>of</strong> style<br />
among modern composers in America as there is in Europe.” 73<br />
Though no program is extant in the Slonimsky, Cowell, or Weiss archives, there<br />
is evidence that just over one month later, on March 22, Nicolas Slonimsky conducted a<br />
concert jointly sponsored by the PAAC and the Czech chapter <strong>of</strong> the ISCM. Cowell’s<br />
correspondence with Slonimsky provides a few planning details. On November 1, 1931,<br />
Cowell wrote:<br />
Prague is today, really more important than Vienna as a modern music center. I<br />
am now negotiating with the International Society Chapter there, and they are<br />
willing to undertake the concert; they hope to be able to get, as a Prague<br />
69 Frederick Charles Adler (1889-1959) was an English-German conductor who studied with Mahler.<br />
According to Cowell, his Edition Adler also held an <strong>of</strong>ficial European library <strong>of</strong> PAAC scores meant to<br />
facilitate distribution to conductors. <strong>The</strong>se scores were lost when Adler immigrated to the United States in<br />
1933.<br />
70 Henry Cowell to Olive Cowell, December 13, 1931 Cowell Papers.<br />
71 Paul Stefan, “Works by <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>,” Musical America (March 15, 1932) Cowell Papers.<br />
72 Anton Webern to Adolph Weiss, Vienna, May 7, 1932.<br />
73 Erwin Stein, “Modern Music in Vienna,” Christian Science Monitor (April 9, 1932).<br />
122
organization, a great reduction in the orchestra price for us, so that it would<br />
amount to their contributing one third <strong>of</strong> the cost <strong>of</strong> the program. 74<br />
Figure 3.4. Concert program. Vienna, February 21, 1932 (Cowell Papers).<br />
On December 14 Cowell disclosed more detailed plans:<br />
I have written to Mr. O. Ocadlik, Radio Journal, Korunni Tr. Narondi Dom,<br />
Prague X11 to take the date <strong>of</strong> March 22nd in the Smetana Hall for the concert, so<br />
this is now fast. It will be under the protection <strong>of</strong> the International Society for<br />
Contemporary Music, Prague chapter, but given by the <strong>Pan</strong> Ams. I gave a<br />
tentative program, which I said would be subject to any amount <strong>of</strong> change, in<br />
74 Cowell to Slonimsky, Berlin, November 1, 1931.<br />
123
which I gave the names <strong>of</strong> Ives, Ruggles, (he will be very well liked in Prague – a<br />
very serious atmosphere) Weiss, myself, Caturla, Roldán, and Chávez. I said you<br />
would write him about the rehearsals, and also that you would send the program<br />
notes in plenty <strong>of</strong> time to be translated into Czech (send in English). Ocadlik is<br />
the head man <strong>of</strong> the International in Prague, not a concert manager, and we save a<br />
manager’s fee there. 75<br />
As <strong>of</strong> January 30 the concert was still underway, according to a report in the Musical<br />
Courier. 76 On March 13 another press release mentioned that the forthcoming concert<br />
was scheduled for March 22. 77 Unfortunately, the trail <strong>of</strong> evidence ends there. <strong>The</strong><br />
concert may or may not have taken place. Slonimsky did, however, lead a concert almost<br />
two weeks later, on April 2, at the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest (see Figure 3.5 for<br />
the program). He conducted the Hungarian Symphony Orchestra in a concert that<br />
included <strong>American</strong> Life, Ives’s Suite, La Rebambaramba, Men and Mountains,<br />
Synchrony, Energía, and Intègrales. <strong>The</strong> final European concert took place on December<br />
8, 1932, at Hamburg’s Musikhalle. <strong>The</strong> event, which was conducted by Gerhard Maasz,<br />
was co-sponsored by the Hamburg chapter <strong>of</strong> the ISCM. (Program in Figure 3.6).<br />
As 1932 drew to a close, so did the European activities <strong>of</strong> the PAAC. <strong>The</strong><br />
concerts they presented there, however, left an indelible mark. As vehemently as Berlin’s<br />
critics had railed against Slonimsky’s presentations there, for the next few seasons every<br />
concert <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music in Berlin was publicly compared to those events. On January<br />
6, 1933, Howard Hanson conducted the Berlin Philharmonic in a program <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong><br />
works by Daniel Gregory Mason, Charles Tomlinson Griffes, Robert Russell Bennett,<br />
Leo Sowerby, John Powell, William Grant Still, and Hanson’s own Romantic Symphony.<br />
<strong>The</strong> Berlin correspondent for the New York Times noted on January 9, “the press<br />
75 Cowell to Slonimsky, Berlin, December 14, 1931.<br />
76 M.S., “Slonimsky Guest Conductor in Europe,” Musical Courier (January 30, 1932). “As representative<br />
<strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> he will present programs <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> music in two<br />
concerts with the Paris Symphony Orchestra on February 21 and 26; two concerts in Berlin on March 5 and<br />
12 and a single concert each in Prague and Budapest, on March 22 and April 2.”<br />
77 “New Music Edition Published by Cowell: Modern <strong>American</strong> Orchestral Works to Be Presented by<br />
Well-Known Composer” Republican (Springfield, MA; March 13, 1932). “In Europe such concerts have<br />
been arranged with . . . the Prague Radio Orchestra (March 22).”<br />
124
comments thus far have not been especially favorable to the works performed.” 78 In fact,<br />
several critics wondered what happened to the radical young <strong>American</strong>s they had heard<br />
the previous season. A critic for the Berlin Tageblatt concluded, “Nothing was given<br />
which was new or <strong>of</strong> worth. All such <strong>American</strong> music as Ives, Ruggles, Antheil,<br />
Sessions, Varèse, and Cowell were left out. Instead was presented a bouquet <strong>of</strong> prosperity<br />
music.” 79 French musicologist Andre Schaeffner agreed, writing that since Slonimsky’s<br />
concerts, “Berlin’s interest in <strong>American</strong> modern music has grown considerably. <strong>The</strong>re<br />
had been debates over Ives, Ruggles, Varèse, Cowell, Copland, and Weiss. People were<br />
eager to learn something about works from ‘over there.’” He concluded, “Howard<br />
Hanson does not appear to be thoroughly informed on the status <strong>of</strong> modern <strong>American</strong><br />
production.” 80 In 1932 the PAAC had achieved, if only briefly, its goal <strong>of</strong> redefining<br />
<strong>American</strong> music for Parisians and Berliners. This victory was short-lived in Berlin, since<br />
many <strong>of</strong> the vibrant modern music institutions <strong>of</strong> Germany would be dismantled the<br />
following year, and hundreds <strong>of</strong> musicians would be forced to leave their jobs. Many fled<br />
the country, never to return.<br />
78 Not signed, “Berlin Hails Hanson Offering Our Music.” New York Times (January 9, 1933), 22.<br />
79 Not signed, Berlin Tageblatt (February 2, 1933). Translation by Adolph Weiss found in Cowell Papers.<br />
80 Andre Schaeffner, “German Season under the Crisis,” 1932 Cowell Papers.<br />
125
Figure 3.5. Concert program. Budapest, April 2, 1932. (Fleisher Collection, Free Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia,<br />
courtesy <strong>of</strong> Gary Galván).<br />
126
Figure 3.6. Concert program. Hamburg, December 8, 1932 (Cowell Papers).<br />
Varèse’s Return to New York<br />
By the following fall <strong>of</strong> 1933 Varèse, too, saw his opportunities in Europe dry up<br />
and the political situation in France worsen. After his application for a Guggenheim grant<br />
was rejected, he returned to the U.S. in August. He had been watching the PAAC’s<br />
activities with rising interest from across the Atlantic, especially the addition <strong>of</strong> Aaron<br />
Copland, Walter Piston, and Arthur Berger to the member roster. While Cowell was<br />
elated (“You will notice the new additions to the <strong>Pan</strong>s!” he wrote to Weiss), other PAAC<br />
members must have privately expressed their dismay to Varèse. Ruggles, Weiss, and<br />
Salzedo agreed that it was a mistake to have invited composers to whom Ruggles crudely<br />
referred as “that filthy bunch <strong>of</strong> Juilliard Jews . . . without dignity and with little or no<br />
127
talent.” 81 In January 1933 Varèse wrote to Weiss that he was awaiting details <strong>of</strong> a<br />
meeting at Carlos Salzedo’s residence. Salzedo, who had never been active in the<br />
planning <strong>of</strong> PAAC concerts (and who had not attended meetings “for years” according to<br />
Cowell), planned to orchestrate a turn <strong>of</strong> events for the struggling organization. Upon<br />
Varèse’s return in August, a meeting was held to determine Varèse’s status and to admit<br />
Salzedo as an <strong>of</strong>ficer. As Cowell recounted the events to Ives:<br />
It was decided by all <strong>of</strong> us in perfect agreement that Varèse would remain<br />
Inter[national] Pres[ident], and be a member at large <strong>of</strong> the U.S. Executive board,<br />
and that Salzedo would become Vice President; Riegger, Weiss, and I retaining<br />
our former positions <strong>of</strong> President, Secretary, and Treasurer. It was also decided<br />
that Becker would be the director and representative for Western America. 82<br />
Cowell left New York for California shortly after December 10, 1933. No sooner had he<br />
departed for the west than Varèse and Salzedo staged a coup. <strong>The</strong>y called another<br />
meeting “at which all but Varèse were shorn <strong>of</strong> executive titles, and Becker was thrown<br />
out altogether. <strong>The</strong>y caused the stationery which had just been printed to be scrapped, and<br />
had a new batch made.” 83 By the end <strong>of</strong> December the new board, which consisted <strong>of</strong><br />
Varèse, Salzedo, Weiss, and Riegger, was busy remaking the PAAC according to<br />
Varèse’s instructions. Another meeting was held on January 3, at which the board<br />
discussed whether to renew the PAAC or to revive the International <strong>Composers</strong>’ Guild.<br />
According to Salzedo:<br />
About a month ago we thought <strong>of</strong> reviving the Guild. [We] all agreed that by<br />
reorganizing the PAA[C] on the same business and artistic lines as was the ICG,<br />
we would do a far more useful work. So we dropped the ICG in favor <strong>of</strong> the<br />
PAA[C]. <strong>The</strong> plan <strong>of</strong> reorganization consists in having a real working committee<br />
composed <strong>of</strong> the five <strong>of</strong> us, with Edgar as chairman, plus [Julian] Mattfeld as<br />
treasurer and a secretary to be selected most carefully. <strong>The</strong> new stationery would<br />
only mention these seven names. It is unnecessary and, to a certain extent<br />
81 Ruggles to Cowell, June 21, 1933.<br />
82 Cowell to Ives, March 14, 1934.<br />
83 Ibid.<br />
128
dangerous to have a selection <strong>of</strong> names on our stationery which does not entirely<br />
inspire either respect or confidence in prospective backers. 84<br />
Cowell was thereby all but shut out from PAAC activities, and Varèse and Salzedo made<br />
the organization much more exclusive. One notable difference is that while the 1932 flyer<br />
below (Figure 3.7) displayed a varied assortment <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> and U.S. composers,<br />
Carlos Chávez, Amadeo Roldán, and Caturla (who had been made an executive member<br />
after the circular was printed) were excluded from the new board under Varèse.<br />
Figure 3.7. PAAC circular from late 1932.<br />
<strong>The</strong> new PAAC board set about organizing two New York concerts planned for<br />
April 1934. Though Cowell admitted to Ives that having <strong>American</strong> new music activities<br />
under Varèse’s domination seemed to him “a bit too Frenchy,” he asked Ives to donate<br />
three hundred dollars to make a recording <strong>of</strong> the April concerts. 85 Varèse secured Town<br />
Hall for the first concert on April 15. He and Salzedo handled the programming and<br />
advertising.<br />
84 Salzedo to Cowell, January 8, 1934.<br />
85 Cowell to Ives, March 14, 1934.<br />
129
<strong>The</strong> evening consisted <strong>of</strong> Ruggles’s Portals (substituted for Men and Mountains<br />
after the programs were printed), the premiere <strong>of</strong> Roldán’s Three Son Motives (discussed<br />
in chapter four), Caturla’s Juego santo, Salzedo’s Concerto for Harp and seven wind<br />
instruments, two Ives songs, “<strong>The</strong> New River” and “December,” arranged for chorus and<br />
instrumental accompaniment, two works by Varèse: Ionisation and the premiere <strong>of</strong><br />
Equatorial, Weiss’s Andante from his Chamber Symphony, and Colin McPhee’s<br />
Concerto for Piano and Wind Octet. I list them all here to reinforce the impracticality <strong>of</strong><br />
such a long program with so many substantial new works. Varèse had invited a number<br />
<strong>of</strong> respected music critics, including Lawrence Gilman, Olin Downes, and W. J.<br />
Henderson. All three sent assistants in their stead.<br />
Cowell, who was now staying in California to focus on production <strong>of</strong> New Music,<br />
was not in attendance. Weiss and Ruggles both sent him uncharacteristically long letters<br />
lambasting everything from Varèse’s egotism (“When you managed the concerts we were<br />
always happy afterwards, but with Varèse everybody must serve his personal ambition,”<br />
Weiss complained) to Slonimsky’s difficulties in conducting the program (“He massacred<br />
Portals and Equatorial,” Ruggles alleged). 86 <strong>The</strong> new PAAC treasurer, Julian Mattfeld<br />
(who had been ICG treasurer), estimated the concert would cost a whopping $3,500.<br />
According to Weiss, they took in no more than $1,500. <strong>The</strong>y were forced to depend on<br />
the second concert on April 22, with Martha Graham, to make up the difference.<br />
This concert was a collaboration between the PAAC and Graham’s troupe. Music<br />
for chamber orchestra by Cowell, Lehman Engel, Louis Horst, Riegger, Varèse, and Villa<br />
Lobos was choreographed. <strong>The</strong> program also included instrumental interludes conducted<br />
by Albert Stoessel. <strong>The</strong>se included works by Ives, Silvestre Revueltas, and William Grant<br />
Still (program in Figure 3.8). <strong>The</strong> performance was evidently not much better than the<br />
concert on April 15. Dance critic John Martin called it “certainly the most hectic dance<br />
event <strong>of</strong> the season,” marred by “a conversational obbligato hitherto completely unknown<br />
in the world <strong>of</strong> dance performances hereabouts.” On the instrumental interludes Martin<br />
86 To be fair, Slonimsky was unanimously hailed for his conducting <strong>of</strong> the PAAC concerts in Europe, New<br />
York, and Havana. If there were difficulties, they likely arose because, according to Ruggles, he had only<br />
had about two hours to rehearse the orchestra the day before the concert. <strong>The</strong> New York Times reviewer<br />
noted that Slonimsky conducted Equatorial “with vigor and understanding.” H. T., “New Music Given by<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>s,” New York Times (April 16, 1934), 21.<br />
130
merely presumed, “the program-maker was not too familiar with Miss Graham’s<br />
dancing.” 87<br />
Figure 3.8. Concert program. New York City, April 22, 1934 (Cowell Papers).<br />
<strong>The</strong> 1934 concerts had been a costly failure. With them, the PAAC ceased<br />
activity. Cowell remained in California, teaching and handling activities with New Music.<br />
<strong>The</strong> economic depression would not improve the concert scene in New York for several<br />
more years. <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical exchange continued but in different forms. <strong>The</strong><br />
League <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> began programming Latin <strong>American</strong> works more frequently. In<br />
1936 Chávez, with the financial support <strong>of</strong> Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, began a summer<br />
festival <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> chamber music in Mexico City. <strong>The</strong> following chapter focuses<br />
87 John Martin, “Martha Graham in Hectic Recital,” New York Times (April 24, 1934), 24.<br />
131
on four Latin <strong>American</strong> PAAC members who chose an alternative mode <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> musical exchange using blues and jazz: two popular music styles that did not<br />
fit into the PAAC agenda.<br />
132
CHAPTER 4<br />
ESTA BOCA ES LA MIA: JAZZ, BLUES, AND POPULAR FRONT<br />
PAN-AMERICANISM<br />
Carlos Chávez’s song “North Carolina Blues” (1942) stands out from the rest <strong>of</strong><br />
the Mexican composer’s works. <strong>The</strong> text, written by Chávez’s contemporary and friend,<br />
Mexican poet Xavier Villaurrutia, is a vivid statement against lynching and Jim Crowism<br />
in the United States. Both Chávez’s song and Villaurrutia’s poem have been virtually<br />
ignored by scholars. In a response to the poem in his 1971 study Villaurrutia scholar<br />
Frank Dauster devoted only one sentence to the poem: “‘North Carolina Blues’ seems<br />
strangely out <strong>of</strong> place; dedicated to Langston Hughes, it is an unfruitful effort to<br />
assimilate Hughes’s jazz-influenced rhythms and is interesting only because <strong>of</strong> several<br />
unusually sensual images.” 1 Likewise, Chávez’s song startlingly departs from the<br />
narratives <strong>of</strong> Mexicanness, indigenous and modern, with which scholars <strong>of</strong>ten associate<br />
him. It is a distinctly jazzy song, full <strong>of</strong> seventh, ninth, and borrowed chords, dotted<br />
rhythms, and syncopation. Wandering melodic phrases in D minor never begin or end on<br />
D, and the accompaniment maintains constant forward motion, creating a strong feeling<br />
<strong>of</strong> restlessness in the work. For its ostensible lack <strong>of</strong> Mexican markers, it has been<br />
similarly undervalued. Only Robert Parker <strong>of</strong>fered a hint <strong>of</strong> what lies behind “North<br />
Carolina Blues” when he wrote, “<strong>The</strong> first episode between choruses is accompanied by a<br />
habanera rhythm, with which the composer gives, inexplicably, a Latin flavor to the<br />
piece.” 2<br />
In fact, the habanera rhythm had long been associated with ragtime and jazz due<br />
to the strong Hispanic presence in the gulf port city <strong>of</strong> New Orleans. New Orleans,<br />
1 Frank Dauster, Xavier Villaurrutia. (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1971), 52.<br />
2 Robert L. Parker, Carlos Chávez, el Orfeo contemporáneo de México. Tr. Yael Bitrán Goren (Mexico<br />
City: CNCA, 2002), 95.<br />
133
having been governed by Spain (1764-1800) and France (1718-64, 1800-1803),<br />
maintained throughout the nineteenth century a culture and economy similar to the<br />
Caribbean territories with which it traded. Furthermore, as Christopher Washburne points<br />
out, though early jazz is most <strong>of</strong>ten associated with African-<strong>American</strong>s, the musicians<br />
who developed it were from a broad range <strong>of</strong> ethnic backgrounds including Hispanics,<br />
Germans, Native <strong>American</strong>s, and Creoles. As such, it may be considered the only<br />
genuinely <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> musical style. In the years following the Louisiana Purchase in<br />
1803, “about half the residents <strong>of</strong> New Orleans had spent at least a decade in Cuba,”<br />
many <strong>of</strong> them born in Saint-Domingue, refugees from the Haitian Revolution. 3 <strong>The</strong><br />
juxtaposition <strong>of</strong> the habanera rhythm, a strong Latin signifier, with jazz was not unique to<br />
Chávez. Consider, for example, the earliest recordings <strong>of</strong> “St. Louis Blues” by <strong>The</strong><br />
Original Dixieland Jazz Band (1915) and W.C. Handy (1922) in which the habanera<br />
rhythm figured prominently. In “North Carolina Blues,” however, it served as a potent<br />
signal <strong>of</strong> the strengthening relationship between African <strong>American</strong>s in the U.S. and Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong>s.<br />
This alternative version <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism was also political, based on a shared<br />
resistance to U.S. economic dominance in the hemisphere. <strong>The</strong> works treated here<br />
contextualize the use <strong>of</strong> blues and jazz idioms in art songs by four Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
composers: Alejandro García Caturla, Amadeo Roldán, Silvestre Revueltas, and Carlos<br />
Chávez. This discussion provides a counterpoint to the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong>’s<br />
activities and agenda. <strong>The</strong>se four composers were all members <strong>of</strong> the PAAC, but their<br />
levels <strong>of</strong> participation varied widely. Chávez and Revueltas never fully endorsed the<br />
political agenda <strong>of</strong> the organization, and both limited their involvement. <strong>The</strong>y<br />
infrequently submitted their own works for PAAC performances, <strong>of</strong>ten preferring instead<br />
to suggest works by less established Mexican composers. Though both men were<br />
conductors <strong>of</strong> prominent orchestras in Mexico City, neither presented any “<strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong>” concerts in Mexico. Roldán and Caturla, on the other hand, each organized<br />
3 Christopher Washburne, “<strong>The</strong> Clave <strong>of</strong> Jazz: A Caribbean Contribution to the Rhythmic Foundation <strong>of</strong> an<br />
African-<strong>American</strong> Music,” Black Music Research Journal 17/1 (Spring 1997), 62.<br />
134
and conducted at least three such concerts in Cuba with their respective orchestras<br />
between January 1933 and February 1934. 4<br />
All four <strong>of</strong> the songs discussed here were composed between 1930 and 1942.<br />
<strong>The</strong>ir use <strong>of</strong> jazz differs greatly from experiments <strong>of</strong> the 1920s that imported jazz<br />
elements into modernist works. Chávez’s piano solos Blues and Fox, for example, both<br />
composed in 1928, incorporated jazzy syncopated rhythms into a highly dissonant,<br />
ultramodern idiom. <strong>The</strong> impetus for the composition <strong>of</strong> these later songs, however, came<br />
directly from literary sources that were inspired by the vernacular music <strong>of</strong> Black<br />
<strong>American</strong>s. <strong>The</strong> distinctly musical poetry <strong>of</strong> three authors, Langston Hughes, Nicolás<br />
Guillén, and Xavier Villaurrutia, served as catalysts for the composers’ imaginations.<br />
After the Spanish-<strong>American</strong> War <strong>of</strong> 1898 many Latin <strong>American</strong>s who had long<br />
admired the wealth and democracy <strong>of</strong> the United States became disillusioned as they<br />
began to fear a new imperialism from their powerful northern neighbor. Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
artists and intellectuals empathized with African <strong>American</strong>s in the United States with<br />
whom many <strong>of</strong> them shared two key experiences: devoutly spiritual Christianity and<br />
economic disenfranchisement at the hands <strong>of</strong> the U.S. government. Latin <strong>American</strong><br />
literary modernismo developed as a theory <strong>of</strong> a “spiritually oriented Hispanic identity—a<br />
moment emblematically captured by the antithesis proposed by Uruguayan critic José<br />
Enrique Rodó, <strong>of</strong> the idealistic Ariel and the utilitarian, materialistic Caliban.” 5<br />
Proponents <strong>of</strong> modernismo contrasted the spiritual nature <strong>of</strong> their own identity<br />
with the perceived godlessness and materialism <strong>of</strong> the white Yankee elite. Nicaraguan<br />
poet Rubén Darío’s (1867-1916) scathing ode to <strong>The</strong>odore Roosevelt ends with the line,<br />
“Y, pues contáis con todo, falta una cosa: Dios!” 6 (And, as you have everything, only one<br />
thing is missing: God!) Similarly, when Federico García Lorca traveled by ship from<br />
New York to Havana in April 1930, he was relieved to arrive at “the America with roots,<br />
4 Roldán conducted the Orquesta Filarmonica Habanera; Caturla organized and led the Orquesta de<br />
Conciertos de Caibarién. See Appendix B for their PAAC performances.<br />
5 Fernando J. Rosenberg, <strong>The</strong> Avant-Garde and Geopolitics in Latin America (Pittsburgh: <strong>The</strong> University<br />
<strong>of</strong> Pittsburgh Press, 2006).<br />
6 Rubén Darío, “Oda a Roosevelt” (1904), in Poesías completas, ed. Alfonso Méndez Plancarte (Madrid,<br />
1961), 720.<br />
135
God’s America, Spanish America.” 7 <strong>The</strong> Spanish poet, who was studying at Columbia<br />
University in 1929, shared the Latin <strong>American</strong> perspective <strong>of</strong> Yankee dominance in the<br />
hemisphere. García Lorca also empathized with the economic plight <strong>of</strong> the working class<br />
African <strong>American</strong>s he encountered in New York. More significantly, however, he sensed<br />
in them, as well as in members <strong>of</strong> Harlem’s black intelligentsia, a depth <strong>of</strong> human<br />
emotion and culture he found lacking in the whites he encountered. 8 Upon seeing a nude<br />
black dancer at a cabaret in Harlem, Lorca was affected by her seeming distance from her<br />
socioeconomic position and living conditions:<br />
While everyone shouted as though believing her to be possessed by the rhythm, I<br />
stared into her eyes and, just for a second, felt her reserve, her remoteness, her<br />
inner certainty that she had nothing to do with that admiring audience <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>American</strong>s and foreigners. All Harlem was like her. 9<br />
Lorca’s fellow Columbia students, on the other hand, consistently struck him as naive<br />
and uncultured, and he found the Anglo-Saxon Protestant manners <strong>of</strong> white <strong>American</strong>s<br />
frigid. In a lecture he gave in Barcelona in December 1932 about his time in New York,<br />
Lorca compared these two <strong>American</strong> subcultures, praising the spirituality <strong>of</strong> African<br />
<strong>American</strong>s over the materialism <strong>of</strong> the white elite, inverting established Western concepts<br />
<strong>of</strong> “savage” and “cultured”:<br />
<strong>The</strong> truly savage and frenetic part <strong>of</strong> New York is not Harlem. In Harlem there is<br />
human warmth and the noise <strong>of</strong> children, and there are homes and grass, and<br />
sorrow finds consolation and the wound finds its sweet bandage. <strong>The</strong> terrible,<br />
cold, cruel part is Wall Street. Rivers <strong>of</strong> gold flow there from all over the earth,<br />
and death comes with it. <strong>The</strong>re, as nowhere else, you feel a total absence <strong>of</strong> the<br />
spirit . . . scorn for pure science and demoniacal respect for the present. . . . This is<br />
7 Federico García Lorca, Poet in New York, ed. and trans. Christopher Maurer (New York: Noonday Press,<br />
1988), 197.<br />
8 In a letter to his family on July 14, 1929, Lorca mentioned meeting Nella Larsen and enthusiastically<br />
described several parties at her home in Harlem, where he was introduced to some <strong>of</strong> Harlem’s finest<br />
writers and artists.<br />
9 Ibid, 188.<br />
136
what comes <strong>of</strong> a Protestant morality that I, as a (thank God) typical Spaniard,<br />
found unnerving. 10<br />
<strong>The</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> perception <strong>of</strong> the United States as representing the cutthroat quest<br />
for material wealth was especially trenchant in Cuba, where the U.S. had intervened<br />
politically and economically since the Spanish-<strong>American</strong> War in 1898. <strong>The</strong> Platt<br />
Amendment to the Army Appropriations Act, which passed on March 2, 1901, limited<br />
Cuba’s rights to form its own foreign policy and debt policy and gave the United States<br />
the right to intervene in Cuban affairs. <strong>The</strong> provisions outlined in the Platt Amendment<br />
were included in Cuba’s new constitution in 1902, and secured the U.S. right <strong>of</strong><br />
intervention until Franklin Roosevelt’s administration repealed the amendment in 1934.<br />
Economically, too, the United States began a process <strong>of</strong> neocolonialism in Cuba. <strong>The</strong><br />
Teller Amendment <strong>of</strong> April 1898 had stated that the U.S. would not annex Cuba after the<br />
Spanish-<strong>American</strong> War as it would Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. At the<br />
conclusion <strong>of</strong> the war, however, the McKinley administration installed an occupation<br />
government in Cuba, and annexation was a matter <strong>of</strong> heated discussion. Meanwhile, the<br />
U.S. government drastically cut tariffs on goods entering Cuba, and the occupation<br />
government granted a series <strong>of</strong> privileges and concessions to U.S. investors, establishing<br />
a long-lasting North <strong>American</strong> economic presence on the island. Increasingly<br />
antagonistic relations with the United States shaped the afrocubanismo movement. <strong>The</strong><br />
new Cuban republic, established in 1903, as well as a new U.S. occupation in 1906,<br />
represented primarily North <strong>American</strong> interests. A steep decline in the price <strong>of</strong> sugar in<br />
1920 forced many Cuban investors into bankruptcy, and by 1927 total U.S. investments<br />
in Cuba reached at least 1.4 billion dollars. 11 <strong>The</strong> resulting economic crisis and loss <strong>of</strong><br />
sovereignty fed anti-imperialist sentiment on the island. <strong>The</strong> end <strong>of</strong> the 1920s saw the<br />
formation in Cuba <strong>of</strong> the first national confederation <strong>of</strong> Cuban workers (CNOC) and the<br />
Communist Party, which would become instrumental in facilitating a cultural dialogue<br />
between African- and Latin <strong>American</strong>s.<br />
10 Ibid, 189.<br />
11 See Jorge I. Domínguez, Cuba: Order and Revolution. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,<br />
1978), 19-24. Statistic quoted in Antonio Benítez-Rojo, “Nicolás Guillén and Sugar,” Callaloo 31 (Spring<br />
1987), 335. Benítez-Rojo notes that even this is a very conservative estimate.<br />
137
Blues and Son: <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Literary and Musical Exchange<br />
In June 1930 Nicolás Guillén Batista (1902-1989), who would become one <strong>of</strong> the<br />
leading poets <strong>of</strong> negrismo (blackness) in Cuba, published his poem “Caña” (Sugarcane).<br />
Though it was not the first literary effort to treat anti-U.S. imperialism in Cuba, “Caña” is<br />
one <strong>of</strong> the most famous poems to demonstrate resentment toward U.S. economic presence<br />
and Cuba’s frustrated nationalist aspirations. 12 It also represents Cuba’s new movement<br />
<strong>of</strong> poesía negra (black poetry):<br />
El negro <strong>The</strong> black<br />
junto al cañaveral. in the canefield.<br />
El yanqui <strong>The</strong> Yankee<br />
sobre el cañaveral. above the canefield.<br />
La tierra <strong>The</strong> earth<br />
Bajo el cañaveral. below the canefield.<br />
Sangre Blood<br />
que se nos va! 13 that drains from us!<br />
According to Robin Moore, “even in the best negrista poetry (with the exception <strong>of</strong><br />
Nicolás Guillén’s), [Black performers] appear devoid <strong>of</strong> context with no concern shown<br />
for their position within Cuban society, their poverty, their squalid living conditions, or<br />
the discrimination affecting their lives” (my emphasis). 14 Guillén’s social consciousness<br />
set him apart and established him as the leading negrista poet in Cuba. His communist,<br />
anti-imperialist sentiment would become even more focused throughout the 1930s,<br />
resulting in his 1934 book, West Indies, Ltd.<br />
A historic meeting between Guillén and Langston Hughes in spring 1930<br />
cemented the Cuban poet’s dedication to black social issues and resulted in a lifelong<br />
12 José Antonio Ramos’s play Tembladera (1917) and Luis Felipe Rodríguez’s novel La conjura de la<br />
cienaga (1923) first dramatized the sugar/imperialism topic. Poems by Agustín Acosta and Felipe Pichardo<br />
y Moya also predate Guillén’s “Caña.” Guillén, however, is better remembered because his poems achieved<br />
a wider distribution and were aimed at a popular audience. Benítez-Rojo, “Nicolás Guillén and Sugar,”<br />
351.<br />
13 Nicolás Guillén, “Caña,” in Antología Mayor (Havana: Ediciones Unión, 1964), 46.<br />
14 Robin Moore, “Poetic, Visual, and Symphonic Interpretations <strong>of</strong> the Cuban Rumba: Toward a Model <strong>of</strong><br />
Integrated Studies,” Lenox Avenue: A Journal <strong>of</strong> Interarts Inquiry 4 (1998), 102.<br />
138
friendship based on a shared concern for the portrayal <strong>of</strong> blackness in the Americas. 15<br />
Hughes (1902-1967), whose early life was spent in Mexico and who traveled widely<br />
throughout Latin America, always felt at home there. Due to more fluid racial boundaries<br />
in Mexico and Cuba he was not <strong>of</strong>ten considered black; when he traveled to Mexico, for<br />
example, his relatively light skin and oiled hair passed for Mexican. In Havana, however,<br />
Hughes noted with disgust the recent importation <strong>of</strong> North <strong>American</strong> racial sensibilities.<br />
He lamented that certain Cuban businesses such as hotels “that formerly were lax in their<br />
application <strong>of</strong> the color line now discourage even mulatto Cubans, thus seeking the<br />
approval <strong>of</strong> their <strong>American</strong> clientele.” 16<br />
Hughes traveled to Cuba in 1930 in search <strong>of</strong> “a Negro composer to write an<br />
opera for me, using genuinely racial motifs.” His patron, Mrs. Charlotte Osgood Mason,<br />
“thought that Amadeo Roldán might do, or Arturo Cartulo [Alejandro García Caturla]. I<br />
could not find Cartulo, and Roldán said he wasn’t a Negro. I came back to New York<br />
with no Negro composer who could write an opera.” 17 Through journalist José Fernández<br />
de Castro Hughes did, however, meet influential Cuban writers, artists and intellectuals.<br />
He was surprised to learn that he was already well known in Cuban literary circles;<br />
several Latin <strong>American</strong> writers, including Fernández de Castro, had published Spanish<br />
translations <strong>of</strong> poems from <strong>The</strong> Weary Blues (1926) and Fine Clothes to the Jew (1927).<br />
Hughes’s reception in Latin America marks a milestone in the development <strong>of</strong><br />
literary <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism based on difference from Anglo-<strong>American</strong> hegemony. Vera<br />
Kutzinski has demonstrated that several Latin <strong>American</strong>s who translated Hughes’s<br />
poetry, figures including Jorge Luis Borges and Xavier Villaurrutia, appropriated the<br />
poems for their own nationalist agendas and subtly altered their meaning. 18 <strong>The</strong> best<br />
15 This friendship is well-documented. See, for example, Arnold Rampersad, <strong>The</strong> Life <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes<br />
or Martha Cobb, Harlem, Haiti, and Havana: A Comparative Critical Study <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes, Jacques<br />
Roumain, and Nicolás Guillén (Washington, DC: Three Continents Press, 1979).<br />
16 Langston Hughes, I Wonder as I Wander, <strong>The</strong> Collected Works <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes, Volume 14 ed.<br />
Joseph McLaren (Columbia, MO: University <strong>of</strong> Missouri Press, 2003), 46.<br />
17 Langston Hughes, <strong>The</strong> Big Sea, <strong>The</strong> Collected Works <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes, Volume 13 ed. Joseph<br />
McLaren (Columbia, MO: University <strong>of</strong> Missouri Press, 2002), 242.<br />
18 Vera Kutzinsky, “‘Yo también soy América’: Langston Hughes Translated,” <strong>American</strong> Literary History<br />
18:3 (Fall 2006), 561.<br />
139
example is “I, Too, Sing America,” Hughes’s answer to Walt Whitman’s “I Hear<br />
America Singing,” and among Hughes’s first poems to be published in Spanish.<br />
Fernández de Castro translated “I, Too” in the Cuban journal Social in fall 1928. Under<br />
his pen the title was rendered “Yo, También, Honro a América.” Instead <strong>of</strong> translating<br />
“America” as “Estados unidos” or “norteamérica,” both <strong>of</strong> which were commonly used to<br />
refer to the United States, Fernández de Castro expanded the concept <strong>of</strong> America simply<br />
by adding a diacritical mark. “America” became “América”: North, Central, and South.<br />
<strong>The</strong> poem thus translated spoke for all <strong>American</strong>s, not just those <strong>of</strong> the United States, and<br />
it <strong>of</strong>fered Cubans a commentary on the U.S. neocolonial presence in Cuba. Hughes did<br />
not intend “I, Too” to be read as a comment on U.S. neocolonialism in Cuba. Some <strong>of</strong> his<br />
later poems, however, reveal his sympathy with this perspective. His poem “To the Little<br />
Fort <strong>of</strong> San Lazaro on the Ocean Front, Havana,” published in the New Masses in May<br />
1931, echoed the anti-colonial sentiment <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s “Caña.” 19<br />
Hughes and Guillén recognized that they were two early proponents <strong>of</strong> a new<br />
blackness movement in the Americas. <strong>The</strong>ir affinity for each other’s work was based on a<br />
shared African diasporic heritage and an antipathy toward the Anglo-<strong>American</strong> elite who<br />
held their people in economic bondage. This affinity yielded repercussions on both<br />
authors’ poetic voices. Guillén was inspired by Hughes’s use <strong>of</strong> jazz rhythms and blues<br />
forms in his poetry; Hughes discovered a kindred spirit in the aesthetic <strong>of</strong> black<br />
populism. As Felicia Miyakawa has noted, Hughes wrote poetry based on jazz and blues<br />
because he “valued the transformative nature <strong>of</strong> jazz, [which] <strong>of</strong>fers redemption from the<br />
decadence <strong>of</strong> western civilization [and] gives access to the immediate, the sensual, and<br />
the intuitive.” 20 Hughes believed not only in the redemptive powers <strong>of</strong> jazz, but <strong>of</strong> other<br />
African-derived musics <strong>of</strong> the Americas as well. He searched for a black composer in<br />
Cuba to compose his opera, implicitly acknowledging that African-<strong>American</strong> music in<br />
the United States and Afro-Cuban music were derived from the same source and<br />
expressed the same or similar qualities. He famously urged Guillén to write poetry using<br />
19 Langston Hughes, “To the Little Fort <strong>of</strong> San Lazaro on the Ocean Front, Havana,” in <strong>The</strong> Collected<br />
Works <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes, Volume 1: <strong>The</strong> Poems, 1921-1940, ed. Arnold Rampersad (Columbia, MO:<br />
University <strong>of</strong> Missouri Press, 2003), 204-205.<br />
20 Felicia Miyakawa, “‘Jazz at Night and the Classics in the Morning’: Musical Double-Consciousness in<br />
Short Fiction by Langston Hughes,” Popular Music 24/2 (June 2005), 275.<br />
140
forms based in Cuba’s own African-derived music. Shortly after Hughes’s departure from<br />
Havana in April 1930 Guillén wrote and published a collection <strong>of</strong> eight poems entitled<br />
Motivos de son (Son Motives) based on the Afro-Cuban musical genre. 21 He published<br />
the collection on April 20, 1930, in a special section <strong>of</strong> the Havana newspaper Diario de<br />
la Marina devoted to black issues entitled “Ideales de una raza” (Ideals <strong>of</strong> a race).<br />
Although he had previously published columns against racism and imperialism, he had<br />
not yet written poetry inspired by native Afro-Cuban forms <strong>of</strong> expression or vernacular.<br />
Shortly after the publication <strong>of</strong> the Motivos, Guillén related to Hughes that these poems<br />
created “a real scandal.” 22 Unlike the Cuban minorista poets such as Alejo Carpentier and<br />
José Tallet, whose work can be viewed as an extension <strong>of</strong> European exoticism based on<br />
the novelty <strong>of</strong> black Cuban culture, Guillén sought to write popular poetry that addressed<br />
issues <strong>of</strong> racial prejudice and social inequality. Guillén considered son “the only thing left<br />
that is truly ours.” 23 Gustavo Urrutia, editor <strong>of</strong> the “Ideales de una raza” page, also wrote<br />
to inform Hughes <strong>of</strong> the poems’ publication and called them “the exact equivalent <strong>of</strong> your<br />
blues.” 24 On that topic Guillén wrote in a subsequent issue <strong>of</strong> “Ideales”: “without being<br />
equal to the Blues, [just as no] similarity exists between Cuba and the southern United<br />
States, [the son] is, in my opinion, an adequate method to achieve vernacular [Cuban]<br />
poems, perhaps because it is currently our most representative music.” 25<br />
Though not equivalent, the literary versions <strong>of</strong> blues and son espoused by Hughes<br />
and Guillén in the 1930s shared several key characteristics that make it easy to define the<br />
poets’ relationship as a <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> exchange. Politically, blues and son were both<br />
21 <strong>The</strong> extent <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s influence on Guillén in this respect has been widely debated. For the purpose <strong>of</strong><br />
this discussion it should suffice to acknowledge that their influence was mutual, since both poets already<br />
had a keen interest in black themes. Guillén has publicly acknowledged that his inspiration in using the<br />
distinctive rhythms <strong>of</strong> son in his subsequent poetry was Hughes’s use <strong>of</strong> blues. See Rampersad, <strong>The</strong> Life <strong>of</strong><br />
Langston Hughes, 181.<br />
22 Ibid.<br />
23 Angel Augier, 91.<br />
24 Rampersad, <strong>The</strong> Life <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes, 181.<br />
25 Nicolás Guillén, “Sones y soneros,” Prosa de prisa I (20). “. . . sin ser el son igual al blues ni existir<br />
semejanza entre Cuba y el Sur de los Estados Unidos, es a mi juicio una forma adecuada para lograr<br />
poemas vernáculos, acaso porque ésa es también actualmente nuestra música más representativa” (my<br />
translation).<br />
141
cultural expressions that defined an African <strong>American</strong> diasporic group in opposition to<br />
dominant U.S. economic and cultural models. Stylistically, too, they are similar. <strong>The</strong>y<br />
both employ interjections, repetition, and a similar use <strong>of</strong> their respective vernaculars.<br />
Exclamations abound in poems by Hughes and Guillén and <strong>of</strong>ten serve as a kind <strong>of</strong><br />
refrain, or estribillo. Hughes employed this text interruption most <strong>of</strong>ten in his spiritual-<br />
based poems, such as “Judgment Day” (Fine Clothes to the Jew, 1927). Another element<br />
common to both is their use <strong>of</strong> their respective African-derived dialects. Not surprisingly,<br />
these dialects sometimes operate in similar ways. <strong>The</strong> substitution <strong>of</strong> “b” for “v” is a<br />
common practice in both Afro-Cuban Spanish and African-<strong>American</strong> English, as in<br />
“heaben” instead <strong>of</strong> “heaven” in English or “brabo” for “bravo” in Spanish. That Guillén<br />
and Hughes were aware <strong>of</strong> their shared African poetic inheritance is evident in Hughes’s<br />
formidable but now almost forgotten English vernacular translations <strong>of</strong> the Motivos,<br />
begun in 1930. 26 One example is his translation <strong>of</strong> “Tú no sabe inglé” as “Don’t Know<br />
No English”:<br />
Con tanto inglé que tú sabía, All dat English you used to know,<br />
Bito Manué, Li’l Manuel,<br />
con tanto inglé, no sabe ahora all dat English, now can’t even<br />
desí ye. say: Yes.<br />
La mericana te buca, ‘Merican gal comes lookin’ fo’ you<br />
y tú le tiene que huí: an’ you jes’ runs away.<br />
tu inglé era de etrái guan, Yo’ English is jes’ strike one!<br />
de etrái guan y guan tu tri. strike two and one-two-three.<br />
Bito Manué, tú no sabe inglé, Li’l Manuel, you don’t know no English<br />
tú no sabe inglé, you jes’ don’t know!<br />
tú no sabe inglé. you jes’ don’t know!<br />
No te namore ma nunca, Don’t fall in love no mo’,<br />
Bito Manué, Li’l Manuel,<br />
si no sabe inglé, ‘cause you don’t know no English,<br />
si no sabe inglé. don’t know no English.<br />
26 <strong>The</strong>se were published in book form in 1948 as Cuba Libre, along with his other translations <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s<br />
poems.<br />
142
Among those who immediately recognized the musical potential <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s new poesía<br />
negra was Alejandro García Caturla; so immediately, in fact, that the composer began<br />
setting the Motivos de son about a week after their publication. Caturla was heavily<br />
invested in the new negrismo movement, in which he included both afrocubanismo and<br />
African-<strong>American</strong> music from the United States. When it was revealed to Caturla that<br />
Langston Hughes, in his search for a Cuban composer with whom to collaborate on an<br />
opera, had been unable to locate him in Havana, Caturla wrote to Hughes at once. When<br />
Hughes returned to New York, Caturla’s letter was waiting for him. It stated his artistic<br />
intentions in no uncertain terms: “I work principally in the rhythms and melodies <strong>of</strong> the<br />
black folklore <strong>of</strong> my country and thus all the serious, mature works I have done and<br />
published until now belong to afrocubanismo.” 27 In response, Hughes sent Caturla copies<br />
<strong>of</strong> <strong>The</strong> Weary Blues and Fine Clothes to the Jew. He said he had heard Caturla’s song<br />
“Mari-Sabel” (on a text by Guillén) played for him by Colin McPhee in New York, and<br />
that he had been very impressed. While Caturla never set one <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s poems, he<br />
dedicated his song “Sabás,” also with a text by Guillén, to Hughes in 1937.<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manué”<br />
In April 1930, shortly after receiving a pamphlet <strong>of</strong> Motivos de son, Caturla wrote<br />
to Guillén, stating his desire to set the poems as a cycle. He wrote that he wanted to<br />
exclude the poem “Tú no sabe inglé.” Ironically, this was the first poem <strong>of</strong> two from the<br />
set that he completed. Perhaps his initial reluctance was because “Tú no sabe inglé” was<br />
among the least Afro-Cuban <strong>of</strong> the set. Caturla’s final version, retitled “Bito Manué,”<br />
contains several textual, formal, and stylistic changes that amplify the original poem’s<br />
Afro-Cubanness. Caturla reorganized the text, adding many more repetitions and<br />
incorporating interjections and jitanjáfora (onomatopoeic Africanisms) that were not in<br />
the original. Vocables “A-a” (mm. 21-23), “Ye-a” (mm. 59-62), and “E-a” (mm. 65-68)<br />
recall similar interjections in other <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s Motivos, most notably the seventh poem<br />
<strong>of</strong> the set, “Si tu supiera.” <strong>The</strong> name “Bito Manué” appears in Guillén’s “Tú no sabe<br />
inglé” three times. Caturla set it as a refrain, pairing it at the beginning <strong>of</strong> the song with<br />
27 Quoted in Charles W. White, Alejandro García Caturla: A Cuban Composer in the Twentieth Century<br />
(Lanham, Maryland: Scarecrow Press, 2003), 98.<br />
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the repeated lines “tú no sabe inglé.” A comparison <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s original text (above with<br />
Hughes’s English translation, “Don’t Know No English”) and Caturla’s reorganized text<br />
below shows their differences.<br />
Bito Manué tú no sab’ inglé<br />
Bito Manué tú no sab’ inglé.<br />
Con tanto inglé que tú sabía,<br />
Bito Manué,<br />
con tanto inglé, no sabe ahora<br />
desí yé.<br />
A-a__, A-a__<br />
La mericana te buca,<br />
y tú le tiene que huí.<br />
tú inglé era de etrái guan,<br />
de etrái guan y guan tu tri.<br />
Bito Manué tú no sab’ inglé<br />
Bito Manué tú no sab’ inglé.<br />
Con tanto inglé que tú sabía,<br />
Bito Manué,<br />
con tanto inglé, no sabe ahora<br />
desí yé.<br />
Ye-a__, Ye-a__<br />
Bito Manué.<br />
E-a__, E-a__<br />
Bito Manué.<br />
No te namore ma nunca,<br />
Bito Manué,<br />
si no sabe inglé.<br />
<strong>The</strong> added interjections can also be understood as a textual commentary on the title<br />
character Vito (a diminutive form <strong>of</strong> Victor) Manuel, the stereotype <strong>of</strong> a flirtatious Afro-<br />
Cuban who uses a few words in English to attract the attention <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> female<br />
tourists. In this sense, the interjections sound like the narrator’s mocking laughter. <strong>The</strong>se<br />
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interjections build in intensity, moving higher in the voice later in the piece (Examples<br />
4.1a, 4.1b, and 4.1c).<br />
Example 4.1a. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 21-24.<br />
Example 4.1b. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 59-62.<br />
Example 4.1c. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 65-68.<br />
Scored for voice and piano, “Bito Manué” is notated with three sharps, but the song has<br />
no tonal center. Instead it contains dissonances throughout and several jarring changes <strong>of</strong><br />
tonality. <strong>The</strong> accompaniment maintains a constant forward motion through a combination<br />
<strong>of</strong> percussive chords and motoric rhythms. <strong>The</strong> accompaniment also exhibits strongly<br />
accented anticipations <strong>of</strong> the downbeat, a syncopated barline-blurring device that is<br />
common to African-derived musics. <strong>The</strong> first such example occurs across the barline <strong>of</strong><br />
mm. 7-8. Example 4.2 also shows the preceding measures for context.<br />
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Example 4.2. Alejandro García Caturla, “Bito Manue,” mm. 1-8.<br />
“Bito Manué,” like many <strong>of</strong> Caturla’s compositions that reflect the negrismo sensibilities<br />
<strong>of</strong> Cuban art in the 1930s, is analogous to the works <strong>of</strong> the minorista poets; the<br />
Africanness <strong>of</strong> the song is reflected through a prism <strong>of</strong> European exoticism and is not<br />
based on any specific Afro-Caribbean elements such as rhythms from the comparsa, son,<br />
or rumba. Neither Guillén nor Caturla were aware, however, that their compatriot<br />
Roldán, who was more invested in the instruments and rhythms associated with Afro-<br />
Cuban folk musics, was also setting the complete cycle <strong>of</strong> Motivos de son.<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Motivos de son<br />
Roldán completed his cycle, scored for voice and eleven instruments, in April<br />
1931. When Caturla, who by this time had only completed “Bito Manué,” heard this<br />
news he became discouraged. Though he had mentioned to both Guillén and Alejo<br />
Carpentier that he “[did] not want to leave <strong>of</strong>f without finishing all the Motivos de son,”<br />
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the only other song from Motivos Caturla composed was “Mulata” in 1932. Roldán’s<br />
Motivos de son was published twice by Cowell’s New Music. A piano reduction <strong>of</strong> three<br />
<strong>of</strong> the songs appeared in New Music Quarterly in 1934, and the full set for voice and<br />
chamber orchestra was published in 1935 under the New Music Orchestra Series.<br />
While Caturla had made the piano function percussively in “Bito Manué,” Roldán<br />
went a step further and included in his Motivos a battery <strong>of</strong> percussion including claves,<br />
cowbell, maracas, bongos, güiro, and bombo. Consequently, he was more able (and<br />
willing) to include a broader range <strong>of</strong> African-derived rhythmic devices. Stratification <strong>of</strong><br />
polyrhythms, for example, is present throughout the cycle. In each song, the vocal line<br />
soars above the stratified layers <strong>of</strong> rhythm, which makes a listener who has the benefit <strong>of</strong><br />
historical perspective recall the <strong>of</strong>fbeat phrasing <strong>of</strong> Billie Holiday. While the stratified<br />
layers are evident in the score <strong>of</strong> the orchestral version <strong>of</strong> No. 1, “Negro Bembon”<br />
(Example 4.3 below), the <strong>of</strong>fbeat phrasing is most pronounced in No. 8, “Sigue<br />
(Follow).” <strong>The</strong> opening <strong>of</strong> the piano version <strong>of</strong> “Sigue” is given in Example 4.4.<br />
Polymeter pervades the Motivos. Another Africanism present throughout the cycle<br />
is metric displacement. Cross-rhythms (especially three-against-four) also figure<br />
prominently throughout the set. <strong>The</strong> most notable occurrence is at the beginning <strong>of</strong> No. 1,<br />
“Negro Bembón.” Example 4.3 shows the cross-rhythms between the violin and viola in<br />
mm. 1-3.<br />
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Example 4.3. Amadeo Roldán, “Negro Bembón” (Motivos de son), mm. 1-6.<br />
Example 4.4. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue” (Motivos de son), mm. 1-16.<br />
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<strong>The</strong> vocal line in Roldán’s Motivos carefully preserves the rhythm <strong>of</strong> the text. See, for<br />
example, “Sigue” (I have also included Hughes’s translation, “Travel on, traveler”):<br />
Camina, caminante, Travel on, traveler,<br />
sigue; pass on by,<br />
camina y no te pare, Travel and don’t linger,<br />
sigue. pass on by.<br />
Cuando pase po su casa When you pass front o’ her house<br />
no le diga que me bite; don’t say you saw me.<br />
camina, caminante, Travel on, traveler,<br />
sigue. pass on by.<br />
Sigue y no te pare, Pass an’ don’t stop,<br />
sigue; pass on by.<br />
no la mire si te llama, Don’t look if she calls you.<br />
sigue; Pass on by.<br />
acuéddate que ella e mala, Remember, she’s evil.<br />
sigue. Pass on by.<br />
In “Sigue” the vocal line is in 2/4, and each accented syllable <strong>of</strong> Guillén’s very rhythmic<br />
poem falls either on a downbeat or on the second beat <strong>of</strong> a measure. In mm. 17-21, for<br />
example, the lines “Cuando pase po su casa / no le diga que me bite” follow the original<br />
accents <strong>of</strong> the poem, as shown in Example 4.5.<br />
Example 4.5. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 17-21.<br />
As in the above figure, Roldán set the vocal melody syllabically throughout. <strong>The</strong> refrain,<br />
“sigue,” always appears with a portamento slide between two notes and is always<br />
syncopated, creating an avoidance <strong>of</strong> the downbeat (Example 4.6) common to many<br />
African-derived musics.<br />
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Example 4.6. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 4-13.<br />
<strong>The</strong> accompaniment <strong>of</strong> “Sigue” includes pseudo-improvised son rhythms throughout.<br />
Three basic rhythms that are used in son as well as in other Afro-Caribbean genres are the<br />
tresillo, cinquillo, and lundu rhythms, shown in Examples 4.7a, b, and c. <strong>The</strong> bass range<br />
<strong>of</strong> the piano at the beginning <strong>of</strong> “Sigue,” for example, exhibits the basic tresillo. Example<br />
4.8 shows the tresillo in measure 1 and its subsequent elaborations, meant to sound like a<br />
sonero’s improvisation.<br />
Example 4.7a. Rhythm for the tresillo<br />
Example 4.7b. Rhythm for the cinquillo<br />
Example 4.7c. Rhythm for the lundu<br />
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Example 4.8. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 1-6. Tresillo and its elaborations in the accompaniment.<br />
Roldán builds to a climax in the second half <strong>of</strong> the song by using the middle range <strong>of</strong> the<br />
keyboard percussively, with chords beating out elaborations <strong>of</strong> the lundu, tresillo, and<br />
cinquillo independently from the piano’s bass, which continues its own improvisatory<br />
“drumming” (Example 4.9).<br />
Example 4.9. Amadeo Roldán, “Sigue,” mm. 28-31. “Drumming” rhythms.<br />
<strong>The</strong> listener accustomed to jazz may notice that all three, but especially the lundu rhythm,<br />
have been present in jazz since ragtime. In fact, these Afro-Caribbean rhythms may be<br />
said to create a ready-made <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> idiom. Centuries <strong>of</strong> musical exchange between<br />
New Orleans and other Caribbean ports makes it nearly impossible to distinguish whether<br />
they function as markers <strong>of</strong> Afro-Cubanism or <strong>of</strong> U.S. jazz.<br />
Both Roldán and Caturla were eager to make musical connections in the United<br />
States. <strong>The</strong>y participated actively in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>,<br />
<strong>of</strong>fering <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> concerts with their respective orchestras, maintaining lengthy<br />
correspondences with Cowell and Slonimsky, and inviting Slonimsky to conduct concerts<br />
151
in Havana. Mexican composers Chávez and Revueltas, by contrast, felt relatively<br />
established in their comfortable posts in Mexico City, and while it pleased them to learn<br />
when one <strong>of</strong> their works was played on a PAAC concert they had other channels through<br />
which to reach U.S. and European audiences. <strong>The</strong> distance between the two Mexican<br />
composers and the PAAC’s political mission grew throughout the 1930s. <strong>The</strong> present<br />
discussion focuses on their respective songs that express a connection with African-<br />
<strong>American</strong> culture.<br />
Mexico Sings the Blues<br />
In the late 1930s jazz underwent a process <strong>of</strong> acceptance within mainstream<br />
Anglo-<strong>American</strong> society. In January 1938 Benny Goodman presented the first concert <strong>of</strong><br />
Swing in Carnegie Hall. <strong>The</strong> following spring the first outdoor swing festival occurred on<br />
Randall’s Island, New York, drawing an audience <strong>of</strong> over 23,000. In December the<br />
opening <strong>of</strong> Café Society, one <strong>of</strong> the first New York nightclubs to welcome a racially<br />
integrated audience, promoted among its performers Billie Holiday, who would<br />
popularize the anti-lynching anthem “Strange Fruit” the following year. <strong>The</strong> cumulative<br />
effect <strong>of</strong> these events and others was to promote a more open discourse about racism in<br />
the Americas. Consequently, though the lynching <strong>of</strong> blacks had steadily declined since<br />
the turn <strong>of</strong> the century, each occurrence was met with increasing resistance.<br />
As Popular Front activities swept through the Western hemisphere in the 1930s,<br />
they intensified the connections between African- and Latin <strong>American</strong>s. <strong>The</strong> Communist<br />
party in the United States emphasized issues pertaining to black workers while<br />
denouncing Jim Crow laws and violence against Blacks in the South. Between 1936 and<br />
1939 it also helped organize soldiers for the International Brigades to fight the<br />
Nationalists in Spain. Langston Hughes and Nicolás Guillén were traveling companions<br />
during a tour <strong>of</strong> Republican Spain in 1937, at the height <strong>of</strong> the Spanish Civil War.<br />
Hughes served as a foreign correspondent for the Baltimore Afro-<strong>American</strong> and Guillén<br />
represented the League <strong>of</strong> Revolutionary Writers and Artists (LEAR in Spanish).<br />
Silvestre Revueltas also traveled to Spain that summer as a Mexican delegate for the<br />
152
LEAR. 28 Hughes and Guillén arrived in Paris in July and traveled by train to Barcelona.<br />
On September 19 they attended a concert in Madrid in which Revueltas led the Madrid<br />
Symphony Orchestra in his works Colorines and Janitzio. Hughes found Revueltas “a<br />
likeable man, very simple in manner, and almost as stout as Diego Rivera” and recalled<br />
several <strong>of</strong> Revueltas’s wry jokes in his autobiography, I Wonder as I Wander. 29<br />
Among Revueltas’s and Hughes’s shared interests was the poetry <strong>of</strong> Federico<br />
García Lorca. Hughes had discovered and had begun translating Lorca’s poetry on his<br />
trip to Spain. 30 Had they met before Lorca’s execution in 1936, Hughes and Lorca would<br />
have found they had several interests in common. Both had attended Columbia<br />
University, found it depressing and unwelcoming, and departed after a single academic<br />
year. 31 Though both poets traveled to Havana in the spring <strong>of</strong> 1930, their visits<br />
overlapped by only one day; Lorca arrived there by ship from New York on March 6, and<br />
Hughes departed for New York on March 7. 32<br />
Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra”<br />
On the return trip from Europe to Mexico, Revueltas was not allowed into the port<br />
cities <strong>of</strong> Lisbon and Havana because his passport showed that he had visited Republican<br />
Spain. 33 Carlos Pellicer, a Mexican poet who was part <strong>of</strong> the LEAR delegation, later<br />
recalled that Revueltas had requested a volume <strong>of</strong> Pellicer’s poetry to read aboard ship<br />
while the other passengers walked about the port cities.<br />
28 For details concerning Revueltas’s trip, see Carol Hess, “Silvestre Revueltas in Republican Spain: Music<br />
as Political Utterance,” Latin <strong>American</strong> Music Review 18/2 (Fall-Winter 1997), 278-96.<br />
29 Hughes, I Wonder as I Wander, 372.<br />
30 Lorca’s Romancero Gitano became Gypsy Ballads under his pen. Five <strong>of</strong> these poems were first<br />
published in the pages <strong>of</strong> New Masses in January 1938, and then in book form in 1951.<br />
31 Hughes attended in 1921-22, Lorca in 1929-30.<br />
32 Lorca also gained a great respect for blues while in New York; he had taken a keen interest in African<br />
<strong>American</strong>s and had left the city with blues holographs. In his characteristic hyperbole Lorca claims to have<br />
been given these “by the New Jersey shoreline” along with some “British stamp greens.” Untitled lecture<br />
delivered in Madrid in March 1932. Reprinted in Poet in New York, 197.<br />
33 According to the diary <strong>of</strong> his friend Sebastián Rossi. Luis Jaime Cortez, Favor de no disparar sobre el<br />
pianista: Una vida de Silvestre Revueltas, (Mexico: CNCA/INBA, 2000), 203. Pellicer had changed his<br />
passport so as not to attract attention that he had been to “red Spain.” Ibid, 202.<br />
153
Revueltas . . . asked me if I had one <strong>of</strong> my books at hand. Yes, I had one. It was a<br />
recently published copy <strong>of</strong> Hora de junio; I gave it to him, and a short time after<br />
our return [to Mexico] he telephoned me to say that he had composed a work for<br />
chamber orchestra inspired by three sonnets from that book that had given him<br />
much pleasure. 34<br />
In view <strong>of</strong> their similar politics and affinity for Lorca, it is possible that upon meeting<br />
Hughes, Revueltas requested a book <strong>of</strong> his poetry. Shortly after his return to Mexico,<br />
Revueltas also set Hughes’s poem “Song for a Dark Girl” from Fine Clothes to the Jew,<br />
which was not among his poems that had been translated into Spanish. 35 Revueltas<br />
translated “Song for a Dark Girl” himself and composed “Canto de una muchacha negra”<br />
for voice and piano in late July or early August 1938. <strong>The</strong> original text <strong>of</strong> the poem and<br />
Revueltas’s translation follow:<br />
Way Down South in Dixie Allá lejos, en el sur<br />
(Break the heart <strong>of</strong> me) (Se me parte el corazón)<br />
<strong>The</strong>y hung my black young lover Colgaron a mi amante moreno<br />
To a cross roads tree. De una rama del camino.<br />
Way Down South in Dixie Allá lejos, en el sur<br />
(Bruised body high in air) (Cadaver balanceante)<br />
I asked the white Lord Jesus Pregunté al blanco señor Jesús<br />
What was the use <strong>of</strong> prayer. De qué servía la oración.<br />
Way Down South in Dixie Allá lejos, en el sur<br />
(Break the heart <strong>of</strong> me) (Se me parte el corazón)<br />
Love is a naked shadow El amor es una sombra desnuda<br />
On a gnarled and naked tree. 36 Suspensa en un arbol desnudo y<br />
154<br />
retorcido.<br />
34 Carlos Pellicer, “Recordando al maestro,” in Silvestre Revueltas Mexico: FCE, 1975), 25. Passage<br />
reprinted in Peter Garland, Silvestre Revueltas (Mexico: Alianza Editorial, 1994), 75 (my translation).<br />
35 For an exhaustive treatment <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s poetry translated into Spanish see Edward Mullen, Langston<br />
Hughes in the Hispanic World and Haiti. (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1977).<br />
36 Hughes, <strong>The</strong> Collected Works, vol. 1, 106-7.
In his translation <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s poem Revueltas merits praise for striving to preserve the<br />
number <strong>of</strong> accents per line <strong>of</strong> the original. Compare, for example, “Love is a naked<br />
shadow” to “El amor es una sombra desnuda” or “<strong>The</strong>y hung my black young lover” to<br />
“Colgaron a mi amante moreno.”<br />
Revueltas’s song recalls blues without directly imitating a blues style. <strong>The</strong><br />
accompaniment contains several gestures that recall the piano blues <strong>of</strong> popular recording<br />
artists such as James P. Johnson and Leroy Carr, whom Revueltas may have heard as a<br />
student in Chicago and later while he served as conductor <strong>of</strong> theater orchestras in San<br />
Antonio and Mobile. <strong>The</strong> first half <strong>of</strong> the second stanza, mm. 12-15, exhibits the “stride”<br />
technique, in which the piano contributes a four-beat pulse with a low bass note on the<br />
first and third beats and a chord on the second and fourth beats. This style was common<br />
to ragtime and early jazz and is exemplified in recordings by Thomas “Fats” Waller such<br />
as “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” (1930). In “Canto,” however,<br />
Revueltas reverses the beats on which the chords and bass notes occur; instead, we hear<br />
the chords on the first and third beats and the bass on the second and fourth beats<br />
(Example 4.10).<br />
Example 4.10. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 12-13. Inverted “stride” based on<br />
gesture similar to James P. Johnson’s in “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter,” 1930.<br />
In the following measures (shown in Example 4.11) the inverted stride gesture gives way<br />
to a plodding series <strong>of</strong> four chords per bar that is reminiscent <strong>of</strong> the casual style <strong>of</strong> pianist<br />
Leroy Carr in his most famous recording, “How Long, How Long Blues” (1928).<br />
155
Example 4.11. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 16-17. “Plodding” chords, as in<br />
Leroy Carr’s “How Long, How Long Blues,” 1928.<br />
<strong>The</strong> vocal line, marked “Quasi recitando,” is recitation-like throughout. As in some blues<br />
songs, the melody <strong>of</strong> each line <strong>of</strong> text is comprised <strong>of</strong> a reciting tone and the neighbor<br />
tones and thirds that surround it, as in Bessie Smith’s “Blue Spirit Blues.” Unlike actual<br />
blues songs, however, Revueltas does not employ a blues scale. Instead, the vocal melody<br />
is comprised mostly <strong>of</strong> minor thirds, as in mm. 16-17 shown in Example 4.12.<br />
Example 4.12. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” mm. 16-17. Improvisatory vocal line<br />
with reciting tone (C) and surrounding thirds.<br />
Perhaps the element most reminiscent <strong>of</strong> blues is the piano’s highly dissonant opening<br />
sighing gesture (Example 4.13).<br />
Example 4.13. Silvestre Revueltas, “Canto de una muchacha negra,” m. 1. Piano’s sighing gesture.<br />
156
Revueltas iterates this motive twice for every line <strong>of</strong> text until the end <strong>of</strong> the first stanza<br />
(mm. 1-11). <strong>The</strong> chord on beat 1 is built from an E-flat octave in the right hand and a<br />
major sixth between B-natural and D-natural in the left hand. A minor second is also<br />
present in beat 1 between D-natural and E-flat. In beat 2, however, the A-natural in the<br />
left hand creates both a minor second with the B-flat and a tritone with the E-flats in the<br />
right hand. <strong>The</strong> D-natural is held over, so the minor second it forms with the E-flats is<br />
still present. Though one expects some sort <strong>of</strong> resolution on beat 3, since the right hand<br />
makes a “resolving” gesture by falling a half-step, instead the A-natural reinforces the<br />
tritone with E-flat. <strong>The</strong> final two beats <strong>of</strong> this heavily dissonant gesture include a tritone,<br />
a major second, and a minor second. This motive returns in the final measures <strong>of</strong> the<br />
piece. <strong>The</strong> effect is one <strong>of</strong> hopelessness, <strong>of</strong> resolution that never arrives, as when<br />
Hughes’s narrator “asks the white lord Jesus what is the use <strong>of</strong> prayer.” With this motive<br />
Revueltas captures a blues feeling without using the interval patterns associated with<br />
blues.<br />
“Canto de una muchacha negra,” like Hughes’s poem on which it is based,<br />
criticizes the treatment <strong>of</strong> African-<strong>American</strong>s in the United States. It may also <strong>of</strong>fer a<br />
criticism <strong>of</strong> U.S. capitalism. In March 1938, a few months before Revueltas composed<br />
“Canto,” Mexican president Lazaro Cardenas had nationalized the country’s oil industry,<br />
which led to a boycott <strong>of</strong> Mexican oil by Anglo-<strong>American</strong> companies. In addition, these<br />
companies successfully lobbied for a U.S. embargo on sending oil drilling and refining<br />
technology to Mexico. <strong>The</strong> lynching depicted in the song, therefore, may also be<br />
understood as a metaphor <strong>of</strong> U.S. economic constraints in Latin America. Both as a<br />
Mexican citizen and a cosmopolitan progressive, Revueltas was keenly aware <strong>of</strong> the<br />
United States’s economic stranglehold on the region. In light <strong>of</strong> this interpretation it is<br />
not surprising that Carlos Chávez also wrote an anti-lynching song, “North Carolina<br />
Blues,” in 1942.<br />
Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues”<br />
Leonora Saavedra has written about Chávez’s involvement in Popular Front<br />
activities and his desire to affiliate his work with a progressive force he defined as the<br />
working class. Chávez, like Charles Seeger in the United States, concerned himself with<br />
157
applying Marxist social theory to the role <strong>of</strong> the composer from at least 1934. In that year<br />
he published a series <strong>of</strong> articles in the Mexican newspaper El universal entitled “El arte<br />
en la sociedad” (Art in society), “El arte occidental” (Western art), and “El arte<br />
proletario” (Proletarian art). <strong>The</strong>se articles, according to Saavedra, were “intended to<br />
prepare his audience for the performance <strong>of</strong> Llamadas, his proletarian symphony for<br />
workers’ chorus and orchestra,” at the opening <strong>of</strong> Mexico’s Palacio de Bellas Artes in<br />
Mexico City on September 29, 1934. 37 In addition to these essays, many <strong>of</strong> Chávez’s<br />
subsequent writings demonstrate his commitment to socialist values and their application<br />
to music. In 1962 he asserted, for example, “among the ancient Mexicans music was not<br />
an individual expression indispensable to the life <strong>of</strong> the spirit but a concern <strong>of</strong> an entire<br />
state organization.” 38<br />
Xavier Villaurrutia (1903-1950), the author <strong>of</strong> “North Carolina Blues,” found<br />
initial success as a poet among Mexico City’s modern literary circles. His earliest known<br />
poems were published in 1919, and in 1922 he founded the review La Falange (1922-23)<br />
with friends and fellow poets Salvador Novo, Jaime Torres Bodet and Bernardo Ortiz de<br />
Montellano. Villaurrutia’s first collection <strong>of</strong> poetry, Reflejos (Reflections), was published<br />
in 1926, the same year as Langston Hughes’s first collection, <strong>The</strong> Weary Blues. In 1928<br />
Villaurrutia co-founded the Mexican literary magazine Contemporáneos. For this<br />
endeavor he joined forces with several other young writers, key members <strong>of</strong> the group<br />
who would come to be known as the “contemporáneos” or contemporaries, after their<br />
journal. 39 Villaurrutia’s translation <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s “I, Too” appeared in Contemporáneos in<br />
the fall <strong>of</strong> 1931 along with “Poem” and “Suicide Note” from <strong>The</strong> Weary Blues (1926) and<br />
“Prayer” from Fine Clothes to the Jew (1927). 40 His “I, Too” has more in common with<br />
37 Leonora Saavedra, “<strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong> Composer in the 1930s: <strong>The</strong> Social Thought <strong>of</strong> Seeger and Chávez,”<br />
in Understanding Charles Seeger, Pioneer in <strong>American</strong> Musicology, eds. Bell Yung and Helen Rees<br />
(Urbana, IL: University <strong>of</strong> Illinois Press, 1999), 29.<br />
38 Ibid., 41.<br />
39 <strong>The</strong>se included Falange collaborators Torres Bodet and Ortiz de Montellano as well as Enrique González<br />
Rojo, José Gorostiza, Jorge Cuesta and Gilberto Owen.<br />
40 Xavier Villaurrutia, “Yo también”; “Poema”; “Plegaria”; “Nota de un Suicida,” Contemporáneos 11<br />
(September-October 1931), 157-59.<br />
158
Borges’s translation 41 than the two <strong>of</strong> Fernández de Castro, who translated the first line as<br />
“Yo, también, honro a América” (I, too, honor América”). Instead <strong>of</strong> “honor,”<br />
Villaurrutia and Borges both preferred Hughes’s original verb: “sing.” Borges’ version<br />
most closely conforms to the grammar <strong>of</strong> the original: “Yo también canto América.”<br />
Villaurrutia’s “Yo también canto a América,” however, both preserves the original verb<br />
and personifies the grammatical object (América). 42 Vera Kutzinski posits that<br />
Villaurrutia’s choice <strong>of</strong> “canto a América” better “invokes Whitman’s multitudes.” 43<br />
“North Carolina Blues” was first published in Villaurrutia’s collection Nostalgia<br />
de la muerte (Nostalgia <strong>of</strong> death) in 1938. It was third in a group <strong>of</strong> six poems under the<br />
heading “Nostalgias.” 44 <strong>The</strong> poem’s speaker is clearly neither Anglo- nor African-<br />
<strong>American</strong>, commenting detachedly on “los pasajeros de color / y los blancos, de primera”<br />
(the colored passengers and the first-class whites). <strong>The</strong> speaker is not “in North<br />
Carolina,” but outside it looking in, retrospectively and with first-hand knowledge, as<br />
after a journey. <strong>The</strong> speaker is Mexican, or perhaps more generally, Latin <strong>American</strong>. He<br />
informs his audience (also Latin <strong>American</strong>) about the treatment <strong>of</strong> blacks in North<br />
Carolina.<br />
<strong>The</strong> repeated estribillo (refrain), “En North Carolina,” vaguely recalls the<br />
spiritual-inspired repetitions in Hughes’s poems “Fire” and “Moan,” but “North Carolina<br />
Blues” does not contain the AAB form <strong>of</strong> the blues poems from Fine Clothes to the Jew,<br />
with which Villaurrutia must have been familiar (though he never translated them). 45 Nor<br />
does the poem exhibit the fine-tuned rhythmic sense shared by Hughes and Guillén. Each<br />
occurrence <strong>of</strong> the refrain “En North Carolina” interrupts what little rhythmic flow is<br />
41 Borges, Jorge Luis, “Tres Poemas de Langston Hughes,” Sur (Buenos Aires) 1.2 (Fall 1931), 164-69.<br />
42 This version should not be translated back into English as “I, too, sing to América,” but rather as “I, too,<br />
sing América [personified].”<br />
43 Kutzinski, “Yo también soy América,” 561.<br />
44 <strong>The</strong> surrounding poems are titled “Nostalgia de la nieve” (Nostalgia <strong>of</strong> the snow); “Cementerio en la<br />
nieve” (Cemetery in the snow); “Muerte en el frío” (Death in the cold); “Paradoja del miedo” (Paradox <strong>of</strong><br />
fear); and “Décima muerte” (Death in Tenths).<br />
45 Such as “Lament over Love” or “Bound No’th Blues”—there are nine blues poems in Fine Clothes to the<br />
Jew.<br />
159
present in the preceding stanza, leading Frank Dauster to judge this poem an “unfruitful<br />
effort.” 46 More charitably put, while very lyrical, it is not a “jazz poem”:<br />
46 Dauster, 52.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
el aire nocturno the night air<br />
es de piel humana. is <strong>of</strong> human skin.<br />
Cuando lo acaricio When I embrace it<br />
me deja, de pronto, it suddenly leaves,<br />
en los dedos, on my fingers,<br />
el sudor de una gota de agua. a drop <strong>of</strong> perspiration.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
Meciendo el tronco vertical, Shaking his vertical torso,<br />
desde las plantas de los pies from the soles <strong>of</strong> his feet<br />
hasta las palmas de las manos to the palms <strong>of</strong> his hands<br />
el hombre es árbol otra vez. the man is tree again.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
Si el negro ríe, If the black man laughs,<br />
enseña granadas encías he shows gums <strong>of</strong> pomegranate<br />
y frutas nevadas. and snow-covered fruits.<br />
Mas si el negro calla, But if the black man is silent,<br />
su boca es una roja entraña. his mouth is a red entrail.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
¿Cómo decir How do you say<br />
que la cara de un negro se ensombrece? that the face <strong>of</strong> a black man darkens?<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
Habla un negro: A black man speaks:<br />
--Nadie me entendería “No one would understand me<br />
si dijera que hay sombras blancas if I said there were white shadows<br />
en pleno día. in plain day.”<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
En diversas salas de espera In different waiting rooms<br />
160
aguardan la misma muerte they await the same death<br />
los pasajeros de color the passengers <strong>of</strong> color<br />
y los blancos, de primera. and the first-class whites.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
Nocturnos hoteles: Night-time hotels:<br />
llegan parejas invisibles, invisible couples arrive,<br />
las escaleras suben solas, climbing the steps alone,<br />
fluyen los corredores, the corridors oozing,<br />
retroceden las puertas, the doors receding,<br />
cierran los ojos las ventanas. the windows closing their eyes.<br />
Una mano sin cuerpo A bodyless hand<br />
escribe y borra negros writes and erases black<br />
nombres en la pizarra. names on the chalkboard.<br />
En North Carolina In North Carolina<br />
Confundidos Confused<br />
cuerpos y labios, bodies and lips,<br />
yo no me atrevería I wouldn’t dare<br />
a decir en la sombra: say in the shadows:<br />
Esta boca es la mía. This mouth is mine.<br />
En North Carolina 47 In North Carolina<br />
<strong>The</strong> interruption <strong>of</strong> rhythmic flow caused by the repeated text “in North Carolina” is<br />
likely the reason Chávez set the entire first stanza as the refrain while preserving the<br />
overall idea <strong>of</strong> the poem’s estribillo. Chávez’s refrain occurs six times, but only the first<br />
two contain the full text <strong>of</strong> the first stanza. Shortening or omission <strong>of</strong> text, or change <strong>of</strong><br />
key alters the following four appearances. <strong>The</strong> sixth (m. 105) sets new text to the musical<br />
refrain (see form diagram with text, Figure 4.1).<br />
47 Xavier Villaurrutia, “North Carolina Blues.” in Nostalgia de la muerte. Buenos Aires, Argentina: Sur,<br />
1938 (2nd ed. Mexico: Mictlán, 1946). Unattributed translation in Kathleen L. Wilson, <strong>The</strong> Art Song in<br />
Latin America: Selected Works by Twentieth-Century <strong>Composers</strong> (New York: Pendragon, 1998), 96. I have<br />
slightly altered the translation.<br />
161
Figure 4.1. Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues,” form diagram with text.<br />
Villaurrutia may not have emulated Hughes’s jazzy verbal rhythms, but he<br />
successfully incorporated several <strong>of</strong> Hughes’s most powerful poetic themes in “North<br />
Carolina Blues.” <strong>The</strong> centrality <strong>of</strong> laughter to the Black <strong>American</strong> experience as a method<br />
<strong>of</strong> enduring hardship is a recurring theme in Hughes’s poetry and fiction. In “I, Too,” the<br />
narrator claims that even though “they send me to eat in the kitchen” because “I am the<br />
162
darker brother,” “I laugh, / And eat well, / And grow strong.” 48 In “Laughers,” Hughes<br />
calls “my people”:<br />
Singers and dancers.<br />
Dancers and laughers.<br />
Laughers?<br />
Yes, laughers . . . laughers . . . laughers—<br />
Loud-mouthed laughers in the hands<br />
Of Fate. 49<br />
In Hughes’s first novel, Not Without Laughter (1930), he contrasts the laughter <strong>of</strong> white<br />
<strong>American</strong>s with that <strong>of</strong> Black <strong>American</strong>s when the principal character, a southern Black<br />
boy named Sandy, attends his first carnival and sees a man with a banjo playing and<br />
singing the blues: “To Sandy it seemed like the saddest music in the world—but the<br />
white people around him laughed.” 50 Similarly, Hughes’s dramatic monologue titled<br />
“<strong>The</strong> Black Clown” (c. 1940) shows a contrast between white laughter, which ridicules,<br />
and black laughter, which fortifies and allows the black man to cope with living as a<br />
second-class citizen:<br />
You laugh<br />
Because I’m poor and black and funny—<br />
Not the same as you—<br />
Because my mind is dull<br />
And dice instead <strong>of</strong> books will do<br />
For me to play with<br />
When the day is through.<br />
I am the fool <strong>of</strong> the whole world.<br />
Laugh and push me down.<br />
Only in song and laughter<br />
I rise again—a black clown . . .<br />
48 Langston Hughes, <strong>The</strong> Collected Works <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes. <strong>The</strong> Poems: 1921-1940, 61.<br />
49 Ibid, 107.<br />
50 Langston Hughes, Not Without Laughter (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1969).<br />
163
A slave—under the whip,<br />
Beaten and sore.<br />
God! Give me laughter<br />
That I can stand more . . . 51<br />
Due to its distinctly jazzy style, Chávez’s setting <strong>of</strong> “North Carolina Blues”<br />
departs from the rest <strong>of</strong> his oeuvre. Wandering syncopated melodic phrases over an<br />
accompaniment in D minor maintain constant forward motion, creating a strong feeling<br />
<strong>of</strong> restlessness in the work. <strong>The</strong> vocal line contains interval patterns that resemble (but do<br />
not actually comprise) a blues scale in B-flat. <strong>The</strong> B section, which forms a curiously<br />
early emotional climax to the poem, gruesomely portrays the hanging <strong>of</strong> a Black man:<br />
“Meciendo el tronco vertical / desde las plantas de los pies / hasta las palmas de las<br />
manos / el hombre es árbol otra vez” (Shaking his vertical torso / from the soles <strong>of</strong> his<br />
feet / to the palms <strong>of</strong> his hands / the man is tree again.) To highlight the grotesque dance<br />
<strong>of</strong> death depicted in the poem, Chávez employed a habanera rhythm in the bass. Each<br />
measure ascends chromatically, creating movement and suspense, and reaching a climax<br />
in m. 25. As if in answer to the horrified listener’s question, “Where could such a thing<br />
happen?” the full refrain returns immediately to remind us: “En North Carolina” <strong>The</strong> B<br />
section and the subsequent return <strong>of</strong> the refrain are shown in Example 4.14).<br />
51 Langston Hughes, <strong>The</strong> Collected Works <strong>of</strong> Langston Hughes. <strong>The</strong> Poems: 1921-1940. Ed. Arnold<br />
Rampersad (Columbia, MO: University <strong>of</strong> Missouri Press, 2001), 216.<br />
164
Example 4.14. Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues,” mm. 18-27.<br />
Lynching <strong>of</strong> Blacks for even the most minor <strong>of</strong>fenses was a shocking reality <strong>of</strong> African-<br />
<strong>American</strong> life in the southern United States in the first half <strong>of</strong> the twentieth century. <strong>The</strong><br />
placement <strong>of</strong> the lynching at the beginning <strong>of</strong> “North Carolina Blues,” however, suggests<br />
that what is depicted in later episodes, the subjugation <strong>of</strong> Blacks under Jim Crow laws, is<br />
even more unconscionable (or more dangerous to Latin <strong>American</strong>s who travel there and<br />
165
may be mistaken for Blacks). Each successive episode is a vignette <strong>of</strong> African <strong>American</strong><br />
life in the United States under Jim Crow.<br />
<strong>The</strong> defiant laughter <strong>of</strong> the Black man appears in “North Carolina Blues” in<br />
episode C at the text: “Si el negro ríe / enseña granadas encías / y frutas nevadas. / Mas si<br />
el negro calla, / su boca es una roja entraña.” (If the Black man laughs, / he shows gums<br />
<strong>of</strong> pomegranate / and snow-covered fruits. / But if the Black man is silent, / his mouth is a<br />
red entrail.) Chávez paints this laughter literally with a disjunct vocal line at “enseña<br />
granadas encías” and an abrupt meter change to 6/8 (both at m. 46, Example 4.15).<br />
Example 4.15. Carlos Chávez, “North Carolina Blues,” mm. 43-48.<br />
CONCLUSION<br />
U.S. pr<strong>of</strong>essions <strong>of</strong> utopian <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism marked the years leading up to<br />
World War II. Many Latin <strong>American</strong>s, however, were wary, still reeling from U.S.<br />
interventions in Cuba (1906-10), Nicaragua (1909-11, 1912-25, and 1926-33), Haiti<br />
(1915-34) and the Dominican Republic (1916-24). Silvestre Revueltas’ and Carlos<br />
Chávez’s vivid anti-lynching songs can be understood as statements acknowledging the<br />
intimate connections between their own experience and that <strong>of</strong> Black <strong>American</strong>s. <strong>The</strong><br />
crucial point here is that these connections were forged by African-<strong>American</strong>s and Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong>s themselves—not on their behalf—in an alternative <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> sphere that<br />
circumvented the somewhat forced Anglo-<strong>American</strong> interpretation <strong>of</strong> a transnational<br />
America. In that sense, the works discussed here <strong>of</strong>fered a more organic form <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong>ism than that espoused by the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>.<br />
166
EPILOGUE<br />
This study makes clear that many variations existed in the intentions <strong>of</strong> composers<br />
who engaged in interwar <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism. Each, however, dealt with the artist’s<br />
relationship to his or her experience concerning an early form <strong>of</strong> transnationalism in the<br />
Americas within contemporary notions <strong>of</strong> national musical identity. At the end <strong>of</strong> the<br />
1930s a new crop <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> enterprises filled the void left by the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>.<br />
Francisco Curt Lange founded the Instituto Interamericano de Musicología, based<br />
in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1935. A year earlier, in a pamphlet entitled <strong>American</strong>ismo<br />
musical, Lange had urged Latin <strong>American</strong>s to develop their own unified musical style<br />
independent <strong>of</strong> European influence. Because Lange published articles and musical scores<br />
in his serial bulletin, the Boletín Latino-<strong>American</strong>o de Música (1935-41), his Instituto<br />
Interamericano can be considered the Latin <strong>American</strong> counterpart to Cowell’s New<br />
Music Society. Lange published Volume I <strong>of</strong> the Boletín in April 1935. Over the next<br />
twelve years five more volumes followed, four <strong>of</strong> which had musical supplements, which<br />
made a total <strong>of</strong> almost 4,000 pages <strong>of</strong> text and over five hundred pages <strong>of</strong> music. Due to<br />
this accomplishment, Gilbert Chase credited Lange in 1965 with establishing “inter-<br />
<strong>American</strong> musicology.” 1 Lange’s doctrine <strong>of</strong> americanismo musical shared certain ideals<br />
with the PAAC, primarily a focus on developing indigenous musical resources<br />
independent <strong>of</strong> European influence. It did not, however, include the United States until<br />
the fifth volume <strong>of</strong> the Boletín in 1941, a change that is evident in the altered cover art.<br />
Between 1935 and 1940, the cover showed a wave and two eighth notes radiating upward<br />
from an outline <strong>of</strong> South America, as shown in the 1938 cover below. For the 1941 cover,<br />
1 Gilbert Chase, “An Anniversary and a New Start.” Anuario 1 (1965): 1-10.
however, the logo was changed to reflect the volume’s focus on North America with the<br />
addition <strong>of</strong> its outline below the eighth notes (Figure E.1).<br />
Figure E.1. Covers from the 1938 and 1941 Boletín Latino-<strong>American</strong>o de Música.<br />
To give the reader an idea <strong>of</strong> the impressive size <strong>of</strong> the 1941 Boletín, it presented<br />
forty-four articles by U.S. composers, musicologists, and critics in 637 pages. <strong>The</strong> variety<br />
<strong>of</strong> topics included music education, jazz, folk music, the role <strong>of</strong> the composer, music<br />
libraries, opera, serial music, the study <strong>of</strong> African-<strong>American</strong> music in the western<br />
hemisphere, and radio music. Among the authors represented were Copland, Cowell,<br />
Charles Seeger, Daniel Gregory Mason, Frances Densmore, George Herzog, Warren D.<br />
Allen, and Otto Kinkeldey. <strong>The</strong> Boletín’s 167-page musical supplement was also<br />
impressively vast in scope. It included works for piano solo, voice and piano, and<br />
chamber orchestra by over thirty U.S. composers including Charles Ives, Aaron Copland,<br />
Otto Luening, Norman Cazden, David Diamond, Elliott Carter, Paul Bowles, George<br />
Perle, Ross Lee Finney, Wallingford Riegger, Paul Creston, Seeger, Ruth Crawford,<br />
168
Quincy Porter, Walter Piston, Vivian Fine, Mary Howe, Marion Bauer, Adolph Weiss,<br />
William Schuman, and Henry Brant.<br />
During the Eighth Conference <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> States at Lima in 1938 a resolution<br />
was passed to form a Music Division at the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Union in Washington.<br />
Although funds were not available at the time, this division was finally created in 1941<br />
with a grant from the Carnegie Corporation. In February <strong>of</strong> that year Charles Seeger was<br />
appointed chief <strong>of</strong> the Music Division <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Union. His main tasks were<br />
to secure monographs on the history <strong>of</strong> music in each country <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Union<br />
and to coordinate efforts with the Music Educators’ National Conference. His efforts<br />
resulted in a number <strong>of</strong> compositions from Latin <strong>American</strong> countries being listed in the<br />
Conference’s manual <strong>of</strong> approved works for competitions. Under Seeger’s direction the<br />
Music Division also developed a list <strong>of</strong> Latin <strong>American</strong> music obtainable in the United<br />
States. After World War II the Inter-<strong>American</strong> Music Festival and other organizations<br />
kept alive the spirit <strong>of</strong> <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>ism. <strong>The</strong>se efforts have recently been addressed in<br />
Jennifer Campbell’s dissertation, “Shaping Solidarity: Music, Diplomacy, and Inter-<br />
<strong>American</strong> Relations, 1936-1946.” (University <strong>of</strong> Connecticut, 2009). <strong>The</strong> present study<br />
should serve as a companion volume to Campbell’s work, as it addresses some <strong>of</strong> the<br />
same issues associated with burgeoning transnationalism in the Americas.<br />
<strong>The</strong> efforts described in both this work and Campbell’s were but a small part <strong>of</strong><br />
the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> social/political milieu that thrived until the Cold War. A few <strong>Pan</strong>-<br />
<strong>American</strong> associations established in the early part <strong>of</strong> the century remain active today,<br />
from the Organization <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> States to the women’s clubs in Texas and the<br />
southwestern U.S. Concerted and government-sponsored efforts at mutual cultural<br />
exchange on the same scale as those <strong>of</strong> the 1920s-40s, however, are no longer part <strong>of</strong> our<br />
experience. In the modern U.S. Hispanics/Latinos make up 14.8 percent <strong>of</strong> the<br />
population, 2 and in the past decade Hispanic cultural presence has become increasingly<br />
conspicuous. At the same time, however, U.S. political discourse has focused more on<br />
building physical barriers along the U.S.-Mexican border than on breaking down the<br />
cultural walls that separate us. Nevertheless, the globalism that defines our current<br />
musical culture is a result <strong>of</strong> the blending <strong>of</strong> Anglo, Latin, and African <strong>American</strong> musics<br />
2 According to the U.S. Census Bureau’s 2006 <strong>American</strong> Community Survey.<br />
169
as well as other musical heritages. This amalgam is a natural product <strong>of</strong> the long and<br />
fruitful musical exchange between Latin and African <strong>American</strong>s. It also owes much,<br />
however, to more concerted efforts at cultural understanding in the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> era.<br />
170
APPENDIX A.<br />
CONCERTS OF THE PAN-AMERICAN ASSOCIATION OF COMPOSERS<br />
MARCH 12, 1929 Birchard Hall, 113 W, 57th St., New York City<br />
Stephanie Schehatowitsch and Raul <strong>Pan</strong>iagua, piano; Martha Whittemore, and Crystal<br />
Waters, voice<br />
Alejandro Caturla, Dos Danzas Cubanas (I. Danza del Tambor; II. Danza Lucumi)<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina, 36<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, O ginete do pierrozinho; A Prole do Bebe (No. 1)<br />
Played by Miss Schehatowitsch<br />
Amadeo Roldan, Dos Canciones populares cubanas (I. Punto Criollo; II. Gaujira<br />
Vueltabajera)<br />
Played by Miss Whittemore<br />
Raul <strong>Pan</strong>iagua, Mayan Legend (Symphonic score, arranged for piano by the composer)<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>iagua, piano<br />
Amadeo Roldan, Three Songs<br />
Sung by Miss Waters<br />
(Repeat <strong>of</strong> Caturla, Chávez, Villa-Lobos)<br />
APRIL 21, 1930 Carnegie Chamber Hall, New York City, “A Concert <strong>of</strong> Works by<br />
<strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> Mexico, Cuba, and the United States.” Radiana Pazmor, contralto; Imre<br />
Weisshaus and Stephanie Schehatowitsch, piano; D. Desarno, oboe; Harry Freistadt,<br />
trumpet; Jerome Goldstein, violin<br />
I.<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina para violin y piano<br />
Henry Cowell, Solo for Violin<br />
II.<br />
Imre Weisshaus, Suite for Piano, in three movements (Weisshaus, piano)<br />
III.<br />
Vivian Fine, Solo for Oboe<br />
Charles Ives, “New River”; “<strong>The</strong> Indians”; “Ann Street”<br />
IV.<br />
Imre Weisshaus, Six Pieces for Solo Voice<br />
Alejandro Caturla, Two Afro-Cuban Songs<br />
V.<br />
Dane Rudhyar, Two “Moments”<br />
Gerald Strang, Two Pieces for Piano<br />
171
Henry Brant, Two Sarabandes<br />
Adolph Weiss, Prelude<br />
George Antheil, Second Piano Sonata<br />
VI.<br />
Ruth Crawford, “Rat Riddles” (contralto, piano, oboe, percussion)<br />
MARCH 10, 1931 New School for Social Research, PAAC Chamber Orchestra, Adolph<br />
Weiss, conductor<br />
North <strong>American</strong>:<br />
Dane Rudhyar, <strong>The</strong> Surge <strong>of</strong> Fire<br />
Wallingford Riegger, 3 Canons for Woodwinds<br />
Adolph Weiss, Kammersymphonie<br />
Latin <strong>American</strong>:<br />
Pedro Sanjuán, Sones de Castilla<br />
Amadeo Roldán, Ritmicas [IV]<br />
MARCH 18, 1931 Salon <strong>of</strong> the Ambassador Hotel, Havana, “Conciertos de Cámara<br />
dirigidos por Nicolas Slonimsky,” Co-sponsored by I.S.C.M. Havana<br />
W. A. Mozart, Symphony in Eb<br />
Charles Ives, Three Places in New England<br />
Carl Ruggles, Men and Mountains<br />
Arthur Honegger, Napoleon Suite<br />
Ernest Bloch, Four Episodes for Chamber Orchestra<br />
MARCH 21, 1931 Salon <strong>of</strong> the Ambassador Hotel, Havana, “Conciertos de Cámara<br />
dirigidos por Nicolas Slonimsky,” Co-sponsored by I.S.C.M. Havana<br />
J.S. Bach, Concerto in G (“Brandenburg”)<br />
Henry Cowell, Sinfonietta<br />
Béla Bartók, Three Romanian Dances<br />
Amadeo Roldan, Ritmica No. 4<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé: Afro-Cuban Movement<br />
Sergei Prok<strong>of</strong>iev, Overture on Hebrew <strong>The</strong>mes<br />
JUNE 6, 1931 Salle Gaveau, Paris, “Deux concerts de musique Américaine, Cubaine et<br />
Mexicaine sous la direction de Nicolas Slonimsky,” with the Walther Straram Orchestra<br />
Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life<br />
Charles Ives, Three Places in New England<br />
Carl Ruggles, Men and Mountains<br />
Henry Cowell, Synchrony<br />
Amadeo Roldán, La Rebambaramba<br />
172
JUNE 11, 1931 Salle Gaveau, Paris, “Deux concerts de musique Américaine, Cubaine et<br />
Mexicaine sous la direction de Nicolas Slonimsky,” with the Walther Straram Orchestra<br />
Pedro Sanjuán, Sones de Castilla<br />
Carlos Chávez, Energia<br />
Carlos Salzedo, Preambule et Jeux, for harp and nine instruments<br />
Mlle Lily Laskine, soloist<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Three Canons<br />
Edgard Varèse, Intégrales<br />
NOVEMBER 23, 1931 Asociación de Cultura Musical, Madrid, “Concierto de Música de<br />
Cámara” with members <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta Sinfonica de Madrid, Pedro Sanjuán, conductor<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Study in Sonority<br />
Carl Ruggles, Portals<br />
Pedro Sanjuán, Sones de Castilla<br />
Henry Cowell, Sinfonietta<br />
DECEMBER 1, 1931 Bauhaus, Dessau, “Werke der Komponisten der ‘<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
<strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>’”<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Solo for Flute<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina for violin and piano<br />
Vivian Fine, Piece for violin and flute<br />
Piano music by Henry Brant, Gerald Strang, Dane Rudhyar, Charles E. Ives, George<br />
Antheil<br />
performed by Imre Weisshaus<br />
Adolph Weiss, Duo for flute and viola<br />
Henry Cowell, Sinister Resonance; Dynamic Motion<br />
performed by Henry Cowell<br />
JANUARY 5, 1932 New School Auditorum, New York City, “Dance Recitals by Martha<br />
Graham and Charles Weidman,” with the <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Chamber Orchestra, Adolph<br />
Weiss, conductor<br />
Martha Graham and Dance Troupe<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Incantation<br />
Artur Honegger, Prelude to a Dance<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Dolorosa<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Bacchanale<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Primitive Canticles<br />
Louis Horst, Primitive Mysteries<br />
<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Chamber Orchestra<br />
Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Sketches<br />
173
Charles Weidman assisted by José Limon and Group<br />
Henry Cowell, Dance <strong>of</strong> Work; Dance <strong>of</strong> Sports<br />
Claude Debussy, Danzon; Danse pr<strong>of</strong>ane<br />
Erik Satie, Two Gymnopédies<br />
Dane Rudhyar, Studies in Conflict<br />
February 16, 1932 New School Auditorium, New York City “Chamber and Orchestra<br />
Works by <strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> Mexico, Argentine, and the United States.” <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong><br />
Chamber Orchestra, Adolph Weiss and John J. Becker, conductors. <strong>The</strong> New World<br />
String Quartet, Georgia Kober, piano, Radiana Pazmor, mezzo-soprano<br />
Alfonso Broqua, Cantos del Parana Guazu (I. Parana Guazu, II. Biti-Bio)<br />
Radiana Pazmor<br />
Roy Harris, String Quartet (Andante, Scherzo, Finale Maestoso)<br />
<strong>The</strong> New World String Quartet<br />
John J. Becker, Concerto Arabesque<br />
Georgia Kober, piano (conducted by the composer)<br />
Ives, Set for <strong>The</strong>atre Orchestra (“In the Cage,” “In the Inn,” “In the Night”)<br />
Chávez, Energia<br />
Ruth Crawford, “Rat Riddles”; “<strong>The</strong> Bee”<br />
Radiana Pazmor<br />
FEBRUARY 21, 1932, Konzerthaus, Vienna, “Konzert der <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong><br />
<strong>Composers</strong>,” Anton Webern, conductor<br />
Introductory lecture by Paul Stefan<br />
Carl Ruggles, Portals<br />
Songs by Charles Ives, Aaron Copland, and Alejandro García Caturla<br />
Adolph Weiss, Kammersymphonie (second movement)<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Three Canons for Woodwinds<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina for Violin and Piano<br />
Henry Cowell, Sinfonietta (second movement)<br />
FEBRUARY 21, 1932 Salle Pleyel, Paris, Artists associated with the Paris Symphonic<br />
Orchestra, under the direction <strong>of</strong> Nicolas Slonimsky, Bela Bartok, piano<br />
W. A. Mozart, Serenade No. 3<br />
Modest Musorgsky, Night on Bald Mountain<br />
Béla Bartók, Concerto for piano and orchestra<br />
Charles Ives, Suite<br />
I. In the Cage<br />
II. <strong>The</strong> Fourth <strong>of</strong> July<br />
III. Elegy<br />
Henry Cowell, Appositions<br />
174
Dane Rudhyar, Vers le Reel<br />
Alejandro Caturla, Three Cuban Dances<br />
FEBRUARY 25, 1932 Salle Pleyel, Paris, “Soirée de Gala, Les Artistes associés de<br />
l’Orchestre Symphonique de Paris, sous la direction de Nicolas Slonimsky avec la<br />
concours de Arthur Rubenstein [sic], pianiste”<br />
W. A. Mozart Symphony No. 1 in Eb<br />
Carl Ruggles, Sun-treader<br />
Darius Milhaud, Seconde Suite symphonique (“Protée”)<br />
Johannes Brahms, Piano Concerto No. 2 in Eb<br />
Artur Rubenstein, piano<br />
Edgard Varèse, Arcana<br />
MARCH 5, 1932 Beethovensaal, Berlin, “Musik Amerikas, Mexikos und der Antillen,”<br />
Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor.<br />
Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life<br />
Charles Ives, 2nd Suite (“In the Cage”; “<strong>The</strong> 4th <strong>of</strong> July”; “Elegy”)<br />
Amadeo Roldán, La Rebambaramba<br />
Carl Ruggles, Sun-treader<br />
Henry Cowell, Synchrony<br />
Edgard Varèse, Arcana<br />
MARCH 10, 1932 Bechsteinsaal, Berlin, Michael Taube Chamber Orchestra, Nicolas<br />
Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Pedro Sanjuán, Sones de Castilla<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Dichotomy<br />
Ruth Crawford, “Rat Riddles,” “In High Grass”<br />
Ottilie Metzger-Lattermann, voice<br />
Roy Harris, Andante<br />
Carlos Chávez, Energía<br />
Alejandro Caturla, Bembé<br />
MARCH 22, 1932 Smetana Hall, Prague, Concert jointly sponsored by Prague Chapter <strong>of</strong><br />
ISCM and PAAC, Prague Radio Orchestra, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
APRIL 2, 1932 Franz Liszt Academy, Budapest, A Concert <strong>of</strong> America, Mexico and the<br />
Antilles,” Hungarian Symphony Orchestra, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life<br />
Charles Ives, Suite<br />
Amadeo Roldan, La Rebambaramba<br />
Carl Ruggles, Men and Mountains<br />
Henry Cowell, Synchrony<br />
Carlos Chávez, Energía<br />
Edgard Varèse, Intégrales<br />
175
JUNE 6, 1932 Hause des Rundfunks, Berlin-Charlottenburg, “Deutsch-Ibero-<br />
Amerikanische Kundgebung” concert, Berlin Radio Orchestra and Radio Choir, Bruno<br />
Seidler-Winkler and Guillermo Espinosa, conductors<br />
Julio Bacmeister, Obertura Romántica<br />
Jose Rolon, Cuautémoc<br />
Carlos Pedrell, Four songs<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Dansas dos mestiços do Brasil<br />
Reynaldo Hahn, From the ballet “Fiesta en casa de Teresa”<br />
Alfonso Broqua, Noche Campera<br />
JULY 1932 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Concert <strong>of</strong> the Orquesta Filarmonica de la Habana,<br />
Pedro Sanjuán, conductor<br />
NOVEMBER 4, 1932 New School Auditorium, New York City, <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Chamber<br />
Orchestra, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Silvestre Revueltas, Colorines<br />
Henry Cowell, Polyphonica<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Choros No. 7<br />
Charles Ives, Washington’s Birthday<br />
Jerome Moross, Cantata: Those Everlasting Blues<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Primera Suite Cubana<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Dichotomy<br />
DECEMBER 8, 1932 Musikhalle, Hamburg, “Kammerkonzert Amerikanische<br />
Komponisten,” Co-sponsored by the ISCM, Hamburg and the PAAC, Gerhard Maasz,<br />
conductor<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Three Canons for Woodwinds<br />
Henry Cowell, Five Pieces for Piano<br />
Aaron Copland, “As It Fell upon a Day”<br />
Charles Ives, Three Songs: “Evening,” “Indians,” “<strong>The</strong> New River”<br />
Carl Ruggles, “Toys”<br />
Dane Rudhyar, Two Paeans for piano<br />
Walter Piston, Three Pieces for Flute, Clarinet and Bassoon<br />
Adolph Weiss, Seven Songs for soprano and instruments<br />
January 30, 1933 Teatro Cervantes, Caibarién, Cuba, “Concierto Extraordinario<br />
dedicado a José Martí,” Orquesta de Conciertos de Caibarién, Alejandro García Caturla,<br />
conductor<br />
W.A. Mozart, Overture, <strong>The</strong> Magic Flute<br />
Maurice Ravel, Ma mère l’oye<br />
Manuel de Falla, La vida breve (Danza Española No. 1)<br />
176
Igor Stravinsky, Scherzino (from Pulcinella)<br />
Henry Cowell, Exultation (Poem)<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé (Afro-Cuban movement)<br />
George Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue<br />
Santos Ojeda Valdés, piano<br />
FEBRUARY 6, 1933 Carnegie Chapter Hall, New York City, <strong>The</strong> George Barrere<br />
Ensemble, Henry Brant and Richard Donovan, conductors<br />
Richard Donovan, Sextet for Woodwind Instruments<br />
Ives, “Afterglow”; “Ann Street”; “Like a Sick Eagle”<br />
Ruggles, Toys<br />
P. Humberto Allende, “Manana es Domingo”; “Coton Colorado”; “Comadre Rana”<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Cancao do carreiro<br />
José Rolón, “In Color”; “El Sembrador”<br />
Aaron Copland, “As It Fell upon a Day”<br />
Henry Brant, Concerto for flute with orchestra <strong>of</strong> ten flutes<br />
MARCH 6, 1933 Carnegie Chapter Hall, New York City, “A Concert <strong>of</strong> North and Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> music” Radiana Pazmor, contralto; Judith Litante, soprano; Vivian Fine,<br />
composer-pianist; Jerome Moross, Composer-pianist; Clara Freedman, pianist; Fifteen<br />
percussionists; Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonata for piano<br />
Gerald Strang, Piano Study<br />
Vivian Fine, piano<br />
Carlos Pedrell, “Alla Vienen las carretas”; “En la manana azul”<br />
William Grant Still, “Winter’s Approach”; “<strong>The</strong> Breath <strong>of</strong> a Rose”<br />
Radiana Pazmor and Vivian Fine<br />
Edgard Varèse, Ionisation<br />
Percussion Ensemble, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Adolph Weiss, Sonata for Piano<br />
Jerome Moross, piano<br />
Amadeo Roldan, “Mulata” No. 3<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, “Makoce-ce-Maka” (Lullaby) ; “Ua la loce” (Hunting Festival Song)<br />
John J. Becker, Four Poems from the Japanese<br />
Ruth Crawford, “Sacco-Vanzetti”<br />
Judith Litante and Clara Freedmann<br />
William Russell, Fugue (for 8 percussion instruments)<br />
Percussion Ensemble, Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
APRIL 15, 1933 Teatro Niza, Vueltas, Santa Clara, Cuba. Orquesta de Conciertos de<br />
Caibarién, Alejandro García Caturla, conductor<br />
W.A. Mozart, Overture, <strong>The</strong> Magic Flute<br />
Maurice Ravel, Ma mère l’oye<br />
177
Claude Debussy, La fille aux cheveux de lin<br />
Henry Cowell, Exultation (Poem)<br />
Manuel de Falla, La vida breve (Danza Española No. 1)<br />
Abelardo Cuevas, Kid Chocolate (Poema Negro)<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Bembé (Afro-Cuban movement)<br />
George Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue<br />
Santos Ojeda Valdés, piano<br />
APRIL 23, 1933 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Cuba. “Dos Conciertos de Musica Nueva bajo<br />
la direccion de Nicolas Slonimsky”<br />
W.A. Mozart, Serenade No. 3 in D Major<br />
Jan Sibelius, En Saga<br />
George Gershwin, Cuban Overture<br />
Roy Harris, <strong>American</strong> Overture<br />
Modest Musorgsky/Maurice Ravel, Pictures at an Exhibition<br />
APRIL 30, 1933 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Cuba. “Dos Conciertos de Musica Nueva bajo<br />
la direccion de Nicolas Slonimsky”<br />
J.S. Bach, Suite in B minor for flute and strings<br />
Arnold Schoenberg, Begleitmusik zu einer Lichtspielszene<br />
Edgard Varèse, Octandre<br />
Arthur Bliss, Three Movements from Conversations<br />
Silvestre Revueltas, Colorines<br />
Aaron Copland, Music for the <strong>The</strong>atre<br />
“Fanfares by de Falla, Milhaud, Goossens, Igor Stravinsky, Prok<strong>of</strong>ieff, Satie, Bliss and<br />
others”<br />
Arthur Bliss, Fanfare for a Political Address<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Fanfarria para despertar espiritus apolillados<br />
Manuel de Falla: Fanfare pour une fête<br />
Darius Milhaud: Fanfare<br />
Francis Poulenc, Esquisse d’une fanfare/ouverture pour le V e acte de “Romeo et<br />
Juliette”<br />
Sergei Prok<strong>of</strong>iev: Fanfare pour une spectacle<br />
Amadeo Roldán: Llamada<br />
Erik Satie, [title not found]<br />
Nicolas Slonimsky, Fanfarria habanera para despertar a los trasnochadores<br />
Igor Stravinsky: Fanfare for a Liturgy<br />
Jose Ardevol, Fanfarria para despertar a un romantico cordial<br />
NOVEMBER 1, 1933 New School Auditorium, New York City. “An All Latin-<strong>American</strong><br />
Concert <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>”<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina for Violin<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, 2 short pieces for piano (Sonata Corta, Preludio Corta, No. 1)<br />
178
2 Cuban dances for piano (Danza del Tambor, Danza Lucumi)<br />
(Repeat <strong>of</strong> Chávez)<br />
Carlos Pedrell, “En amore fueron criadas,” “Oracion por las novias tristes”<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, “Mari-Sabel” (Poemas Afro-Cubanas)<br />
Humberto Allende, “El Surtidor” (Mistral)<br />
Montserrat Campmany, Tonada<br />
Amadeo Roldan, Dos Canciones Cubanas<br />
Intermission<br />
Carlos Chávez, Sonatina for Piano<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Six songs<br />
(Repeat <strong>of</strong> Chávez)<br />
Heitor Villa-Lobos, Trio No. 3 for violin, cello and piano<br />
Allegro con moto<br />
Assai moderato<br />
Allegretto Spirituoso<br />
Finale, Allegro Animato<br />
NOVEMBER 13, 1933 New School Auditorium, New York City. “An All North <strong>American</strong><br />
Concert <strong>of</strong> the <strong>Pan</strong> <strong>American</strong> <strong>Association</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>”<br />
John J. Becker, Soundpiece, for string quartet and piano<br />
Richard Donovan, Four Songs for string quartet and voice<br />
Walter Piston, String Quartet<br />
Adolph Weiss, Seven Songs for string quartet and voice<br />
Charles Ives, Seven Songs<br />
Carl Ruggles, “Toys”<br />
Ruth Crawford, String Quartet<br />
DECEMBER 8, 1933 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Cuba. Orquesta Filarmonica de la Habana,<br />
Amadeo Roldan, conductor<br />
Henry Cowell, Reel; Hornpipe<br />
DECEMBER 11, 1933 New School Auditorium, New York City. Fritz Reiner, conducting<br />
Isador Freed, Sonata for piano<br />
Carl Ruggles, Angels<br />
Wallingford Riegger, Trio<br />
Carlos Salzedo, Sonata<br />
Henry Brant, Concerto for flute<br />
DECEMBER 24, 1933 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Cuba. Orquesta Filarmonica de la<br />
Habana, Amadeo Roldan, conductor<br />
E. E. Fabini, La isla de los ceibos<br />
Adolph Weiss, <strong>American</strong> Life<br />
179
Alejandro García Caturla, La Rumba<br />
FEBRUARY 25, 1934 Teatro Nacional, Havana, Cuba. Orquesta Filarmonica de la<br />
Habana, Amadeo Roldan, conductor<br />
Howard Hanson, “Andante” from Nordic Symphony<br />
APRIL 15, 1934 Town Hall, New York City. Nicolas Slonimsky, conductor<br />
Carl Ruggles, Men and Mountains, for chamber orchestra [Portals was scheduled]<br />
Amadeo Roldan, Three Son Motives<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, Juego Santo, for soprano, instrumental ensemble and<br />
percussion (Lydia de Rivera)<br />
Carlos Salzedo, Concerto for Harp and seven wind instruments<br />
Charles Ives, Two Songs “<strong>The</strong> New River”; “December,” for instrumental ensemble and<br />
chorus<br />
Night, for chamber orchestra<br />
Edgard Varèse, Ionisation; Equatorial<br />
Adolph Weiss, “Andante” from Chamber Symphony<br />
Colin McPhee, Concerto for piano and wind octet (Josef Wissow)<br />
APRIL 22, 1934 Alvin <strong>The</strong>atre, New York City. Albert Stoessel, conductor; Martha<br />
Graham and group, with orchestral interludes for chamber orchestra<br />
Henry Cowell, Four Casual Developments<br />
Dorothy Bird, Sophie Maslow, Anna Sokolow<br />
A. Lehman Engel, Ekstasis (Two Lyric Fragments)<br />
Martha Graham<br />
William Grant Still, Three Dances from “La Guiablesse”<br />
Chamber Orchestra<br />
Louis Horst, Primitive Mysteries<br />
Martha Graham and Group<br />
Villa-Lobos, Primitive Canticles<br />
Martha Graham<br />
Soprano solo, Judith Litante<br />
Charles Ives, Hallowe’en, <strong>The</strong> Pond, Allegro Moderato<br />
Chamber Orchestra<br />
Riegger, Frenetic Rhythms<br />
Martha Graham<br />
Voice, Simon Rady<br />
Silvestre Revueltas, 8 X Radio<br />
Chamber Orchestra<br />
Varèse, Intégrales: Shapes <strong>of</strong> Ancestral Wonder<br />
Martha Graham and Group<br />
180
APPENDIX B<br />
EXTANT CONCERT PROGRAMS AND REVIEWS OF THE PAN-AMERICAN<br />
ASSOCIATION OF COMPOSERS<br />
(Unless noted otherwise, all materials are located in the Henry Cowell Papers <strong>of</strong> the New<br />
York Public Library for the Performing Arts.)<br />
Program, March 12, 1929, Birchard Hall, NYC<br />
Program, April 21, 1930, Carnegie Chapter Hall, NYC<br />
Program, October 15, 1930, YWCA, San Francisco<br />
Henry Cowell, “<strong>The</strong> New Music Society.” <strong>The</strong> Argonaut October 18, 1930.<br />
Programs, December 23 and 26, 1930, Havana<br />
Gallardo, Conchita. “Music,” El pais (Havana) December 27, 1930.<br />
Not signed, “Habaneras/Henry Cowell.” Diario de la Marina (Havana) Dec. 27,<br />
1930.<br />
Program, December 28, 1930, Havana<br />
Program, January 10, 1931, Town Hall, NYC<br />
Program, February 7, 1931, New School, NYC<br />
Program, March 10, 1931, New School, NYC<br />
Programs, March 18 and 21, 1931, Havana<br />
Programs, June 6 and 11, 1931, Salle Gaveau, Paris<br />
Carlos Salzedo, “<strong>The</strong> <strong>American</strong> Left Wing.” Eolus 11 (April 1932), 9-29.<br />
Boris de Schloezer, “Musical Life in Paris.” Les Beaux Arts June 26, 1931.<br />
Paul Le Flem, “Mr. Slonimsky Conducts . . .” Comoedia June 8, 1931.<br />
Paul Le Flem, “Mr. Slonimsky. . .” Comoedia June 15, 1931.<br />
André Coeuroy, “<strong>The</strong> Discovery <strong>of</strong> America.” Gringoire June 20, 1931.<br />
Emile Vuillermoz, “La musique.” Excelsior June 8, 1931.<br />
Arthur Hoerée, Schweizer Musikzeitung Und Sängerblatt (Zurich) Sept. 1, 1931.<br />
181
Paul Dambly, A Paris June 26, 1931.<br />
Emile Vuillermoz, “La musique.” Excelsior June 15, 1931.<br />
Alexei Remis<strong>of</strong>f, “Intégrales—Géométrie Sonore” June 1931.<br />
Philip Hale, “Mr. Slonimsky in Paris.” Boston Herald July 7, 1931.<br />
Henry Prunières, “<strong>American</strong> Compositions in Paris.” New York Times July 12,<br />
1931.<br />
Adolph Weiss, “In Defense <strong>of</strong> Native <strong>Composers</strong>.” New York Times July 26,<br />
1931.<br />
Raymond Petit, “Concerts de Musique Americaine.” La Revue Musicale 12/119,<br />
(October 1931), 245-6.<br />
Jules Casadesus, “Les Concerts.” L’Oeuvre June 11, 1931.<br />
Not signed, “Boston Chamber Orchestra.” Musical America February 25, 1931.<br />
Program, November 23, 1931, Madrid<br />
Ad. S. “La vida musical: Musica panamericana.” El sol (Madrid) November 24,<br />
1931.<br />
Juan del Brezo, "Concierto de Música <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong>a." La voz (Madrid)<br />
November 24, 1931.<br />
Program, December 1, 1931, Bauhaus, Dessau<br />
Program, January 5, 1932, New School, NYC<br />
Program, February 16, 1932, New School, NYC<br />
Not signed, “North <strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> and Others.” 1932.<br />
Gustav Davidson, “Music.” New York Daily Mirror February 17, 1932.<br />
Programs, February 21 and 25, 1932, Salle Pleyel, Paris<br />
Emile Vuillermoz, Excelsior February 23, 1932.<br />
Not signed, Chicago Tribune (Paris) February 24, 1932.<br />
Marcel Belvianes, Menestrel February 26, 1932.<br />
Florent Schmitt, Le temps February 27, 1932.<br />
Not signed, Chicago Tribune (Paris) February 27, 1932.<br />
Tristan Klingsor, Le monde musical February 29, 1932.<br />
Marcel Belvianes, Menestrel March 4, 1932.<br />
Henry Prunières, “Concerts and Other Things.” New York Times March 5, 1932.<br />
182
Not signed, “Paris Musical Critics Speak Highly <strong>of</strong> Music by Redding<br />
Composer.” 1932.<br />
Not signed, “Mr. Slonimsky Abroad.” Boston Evening Transcript March 9, 1932.<br />
Irving Schwerke, “Aus Amerika,” Musical Courier March 12, 1932.<br />
G.H. Archambault, “Paris News/<strong>American</strong> Music.” New York Sun March 14,<br />
1932.<br />
Not signed, “Mr. Slonimsky in Paris.” Boston Evening Transcript March 16,<br />
1932.<br />
Program, February 21, 1932, Konzerthaus, Vienna<br />
Paul Stefan, “Works by Modern <strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong>.” Musical America<br />
March 15, 1932.<br />
Henry A. Diez, “<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> Program Given in Viennese Hall.” New York<br />
Herald Tribune April 3, 1932.<br />
Program, March 5, 1932, Beethovensaal, Berlin<br />
Heinrich Strobel, Boersen-Courier March 6, 1932.<br />
Heinrich Strobel, Boersen-Courier March 7, 1932.<br />
M.M. Vossische Zeitung March 6, 1932.<br />
M.M. Vossische Zeitung March 7, 1932.<br />
H.H. Stuckenschmidt, BZ am Mittag March 7, 1932.<br />
A. E. Berliner Tageblatt March 7, 1932.<br />
Ludwig Misch, Berlin Anzeiger March 7, 1932.<br />
Momus, Das Kleine Journal March 7, 1932.<br />
Dr. H<strong>of</strong>er, Neue Berliner 12-Uhr Zeitung March 8, 1932.<br />
Herbert Connor, Berliner Boersenzeitung March 9, 1932.<br />
Herman Springer, Deutsche Tageszeitung March 10, 1932.<br />
Josef Rufer, Berlin Morgenpost March 10, 1932.<br />
Schliepe, Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung March 11, 1932.<br />
Dr. Gerigk, Rheinisch-Westphaelschezeitung (Essen) March 11, 1932.<br />
S----z. Berliner Westen March 13, 1932.<br />
Program, March 10, 1932, Bechsteinsaal, Berlin<br />
Ilse, Berliner Fremdenzeitung March 14, 1932.<br />
183
Oscar Bie, Stuttgarter Neues Tageblatt March 15, 1932.<br />
Fritz Brust, Germania March 16, 1932.<br />
Fritz Ohrmann, Signale March 16, 1932.<br />
Paul Zschorlich, Deutsche Zeitung, Berlin March 18, 1932.<br />
Paul Schwers, Allgemeine Musikzeitung, Berlin, March 18, 1932.<br />
Hamel, Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, Berlin March 18, 1932.<br />
Al. Hi. Neue Zeit des Westens, Berlin, March 19, 1932.<br />
Not signed, Potsdamer Tageszeitung, n.d.<br />
Walter Abendrot, Allgemeine Musikzeitung, Berlin, n.d.<br />
Not signed, Berliner Tageblatt, n.d.<br />
Karl Westermeyer, Die Musik (Stuttgart), n.d.<br />
Not signed, Berliner Boersenzeitung, n.d.<br />
Hugo Leichtentritt, "Berlin" Musical Times 73/1071 (May 1, 1932), 463.<br />
Walther Hirschberg, “Nicolas Slonimsky,” Signale fur die Musikalische Welt<br />
90/10 (March 9, 1932), 212.<br />
Not signed, “<strong>Pan</strong>-Amerikanische Komponistenvereinigung” Deutsche Allgemeine<br />
Zeitung March 11, 1932 (see partial translation above).<br />
Herbert F. Peyser, “Music in Berlin.” New York Times April 17, 1932.<br />
AP, “Applause and Hisses Mingled: Berlin Hears Modernist <strong>American</strong> Music.”<br />
Boston Globe March 6, 1932.<br />
AP, “Berlin Cheers Slonimsky Music: Boston Conductor’s Program Greeted with<br />
Wild Applause and Hisses.” Boston Herald March 6, 1932.<br />
Program, March 22, 1932, Smetana Hall, Prague<br />
Not signed, “<strong>Pan</strong>-<strong>American</strong> <strong>Composers</strong> Heard on Continent.” Musical America<br />
March 25, 1932.<br />
Program, April 2, 1932, Franz Liszt Academy, Budapest (Fleisher Collection <strong>of</strong> Free<br />
Library <strong>of</strong> Philadelphia)<br />
Program, November 4, 1932, New School, NYC<br />
L.B. “<strong>Composers</strong> Hit at Evil <strong>of</strong> Jazz.” NY Telegram November 5, 1932.<br />
Program, December 8, 1932, Musikhalle, Hamburg<br />
184
E.W.-M. “Hamburg Holds All-<strong>American</strong> Concert.” Musical Courier February<br />
18, 1933.<br />
Program, December 30, 1932, Escuela de Musica y Declamacion, Caracas<br />
Program, January 30, 1933, Teatro Cervantes, Caibarien, Cuba<br />
Program, February 6, 1933, Carnegie Chapter Hall, NYC<br />
Program, March 6, 1933, Carnegie Chapter Hall, NYC<br />
Program, March 18, 1933, Teatro “Niza,” Vueltas, Santa Clara, Cuba<br />
Program, April 15, 1933, Teatro “Niza,” Vueltas, Santa Clara, Cuba<br />
Program, April 23, 1933, Teatro Nacional, Havana<br />
Francisco V. Portales, “Musicales.” La voz (Havana) April 24, 1933.<br />
Not signed, “Contemporary <strong>Composers</strong>’ Work Excites Controversy.” <strong>The</strong> Habana<br />
Post [English] April 27, 1933.<br />
Program, April 30, 1933, Teatro Nacional, Havana<br />
Alejandro García Caturla, “Realidad de la utilizacion sinfonica del instrumental<br />
cubano.” Atalaya 1/1 July 15, 1933.<br />
Program, May 25, 1933, College <strong>of</strong> St. Thomas, St. Paul, Minnesota<br />
Program, July 20, 1933, Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles<br />
Moses Smith, “Modern Sound and Fury in Musical Composition.” Boston Sunday<br />
Advertiser February 25, 1934.<br />
Program, November 1, 1933, New School, NYC<br />
Program, November 13, 1933, New School, NYC<br />
H.H., “Living <strong>Composers</strong> Heard in Recital.” New York Times November 14,<br />
1933.<br />
Program, November 19, 26; December 3, 10, 1933 Radio Station WEVD, NYC<br />
Program, December 8, 1933, Havana<br />
Program, December 11, 1933, New School, NYC<br />
Program, December 24, 1933, Havana<br />
Program, February 25, 1934, Havana<br />
Program, April 15, 1934, Town Hall, NYC<br />
Program, April 22, 1934, Alvin <strong>The</strong>atre, NYC<br />
John Martin, “Martha Graham in Hectic Recital.” New York Times 1934.<br />
185
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198
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH<br />
Stephanie Stallings graduated from Furman University with a Bachelor <strong>of</strong> Music<br />
degree in Piano Performance in 2002. At <strong>The</strong> Florida State University she earned the<br />
Master <strong>of</strong> Music degree in Musicology (2005) and the Doctor <strong>of</strong> Philosophy degree in<br />
Musicology (2009). Her principal research interests involve geopolitical relations and<br />
music in the Americas focusing on connections between U.S. modernists and the Latin<br />
<strong>American</strong> avant-garde. For her dissertation research she was awarded grants from the<br />
Curtis Mayes Fund and the Presser Foundation. While at Florida State, Stallings taught<br />
courses in music history, world music, music literature, and music appreciation. She has<br />
contributed articles to Musicians and <strong>Composers</strong> <strong>of</strong> the Twentieth Century (Salem Press,<br />
2008) and the Grove Dictionary <strong>of</strong> <strong>American</strong> Music. She has also presented several<br />
papers at national meetings <strong>of</strong> the Society for <strong>American</strong> Music and is a member <strong>of</strong> the<br />
<strong>American</strong> Musicological Society, the Society for Ethnomusicology, and Pi Kappa<br />
Lambda.<br />
199