At the end of May 2002, Clave spoke with renowned Mexican composer Arturo Márquez, who was then visiting Washington, D.C. Born in Sonora, México, in 1950, Márquez studied in México, France, and the U.S., garnering grants and awards in all three countries, including a Fullbright Scholarship. He now works at the National University of México (UNAM), Superior School of Music, and at the CENIDIM, the National Center of Research, Documentation, and Information of Mexican Music. The following conversation took place at Trinity College, while the Pan American Orchestra was preparing to practice.
Clave: How did you come to be in Washington?
I came for the world premiere of Danzón No. 7. It was commissioned by the Pan American Orchestra which is directed by Sergio Buslje. The Orchestra previously played the Danzones No. 2 and No. 3—I think No. 2 more regularly—and, from some time back, Sergio had asked me to write a new danzón, for a premiere in Washington. He found the resources to make it possible. The danzón is a genre that I’ve addressed not solely in, let’s say, its form, but in its spirit, which I include in many of my works, sometimes as a movement in a concert. For example, in both the Harp Concerto and the Cello Concerto, one of the movements is a danzón. In other chamber works, as in one called Sarabandeo and another, Danza de Medio Día, not all is danzón, but somewhere, some theme, some moment refers to the genre of the danzón. What I do is to take up the spirit of the rhythm and the harmony and the melody, and transport it to the concert hall. It’s a kind of tribute to the danzón, I would say. Curiously, the danzón is today still very popular in Mexico. In Veracruz, there are special town squares where it is still danced two or three times a week. It’s a very strong tradition. In Mexico City, there are special dance halls where only danzón is danced.
Clave: Mexico has 31 states, each with its own traditions. What drew you to the danzón, among all of the Mexican popular styles?
Actually, I’ve worked with many Mexican folk genres; that’s basically what I am doing now. I’ve worked with the son, for example. Right now I’m studying the son huasteco, which is very rich, especially the violín huasteco. I’ve also worked with the son veracruzano, and the vals oaxaqueño. I’m also researching the bambuco yucateco. The bambuco comes from Colombia, but it has been transformed by the Yucatecans. I know well the son jaliscience, which is played by the mariachis. I started out playing the mariachi violin. So I have been very close to popular music, from childhood.
The danzón was a kind of fortunate encounter some 15 years ago. Of course, we Mexicans have heard it all our lives, in every state, even if it is played especially in Veracruz or D.F. or in Yucatán, and also it’s played a lot in Oaxaca and Chiapas.
Clave: What does it mean to research, for example, the bambuco?
First of all, listening—it’s research by listening. I try to get as many recordings as I can. For example, I am now reviewing those of Pastor Servera, a composer of many bambucos in Mérida, who died 2 or 3 years ago, a Yucatecan trouvadour. And, I have been doing a kind of comparative analysis with the Colombian bambuco. There are some differences. For example, the Yucatecan bambuco is always sung, and always with very poetic lyrics, unlike the Colombian, which frequently is instrumental only. I’m from the north of Mexico, where the son, because of the indigenous people, is very different from that of the south. But there are other genres, like the arredobo and the polka, which are played a lot. In the Cello Concerto, I put a polka in the last movement. I’ve worked with a lot of popular genres, and I don’t think I’ll exhaust them, because there are many. But it’s not about that. It’s about becoming passionate about some traditional genres and finding a way to pay tribute to them in the concert halls.
Clave: Many well-known composers—like Bartok, Ives, Villa-Lobos—are known for having incorporated folkloric themes in their work. How are these themes manifested?
Indeed, many composers have worked with popular music, in different ways. Some, like Moncayo or Gallún, in Mexico, take up certain traditional themes and create a rhapsodic suite, and orchestrate it, as does also Ponce. There are others, like Lauro, whose music has much to do with the spirit of popular music, and it is as if it were on both sides. You listen to his waltzes and you say, this could perfectly well be popular music. Others yet, like Villa-Lobos, Revueltas, and Bartók, also took up popular traditions, but in a different way. They take its spirit, I think. Their compositions look for that rhythmic or melodic spirit. The harmony is quite varied. In the case of Villa-Lobos or Revueltas, the harmonic world that they use is from the music of the 20th Century. There is a Mexican composer, for example, Javier Álvarez, who creates contemporary music, but with folkloric elements. In Cuba, practically all composers are using the folkloric element as a base. I’m thinking of, for example, Güido López and Leo Brouwer.
Clave: In Mexico, is composing with traditional themes within the mainstream, or does it go against the current?
In general, the Latin American countries, except for Cuba, and perhaps Brasil somewhat, are all within the sphere of European music, contemporary music in general. That has been the reigning model of musical composition for the last 40 or 50 years. There are some composers, and I among them, who in the last 10 or 15 years have changed; or who have been born—some young people are doing it. This is something that comes naturally for the Cubans, perhaps because of a different history.
Clave: What do you mean by contemporary European music?
There is a universalist current, as it was named in the 50s, that comprised different languages, like serial music, aleatory music, electronic music. The U.S., Japan, and Latin America basically joined this esthetic current, and the trend continues. The U.S. perhaps has had somewhat of a different panorama, with the minimalists, and now Latin America, with the so-called neo-nationalism — a term I find grating —, is diverging from that universalist current of the Europeans.
What some of us are doing is not nationalism as it was used in the 20s and 30s, when, in Mexico, for example, nationalism arises because there had been a revolution, and the artists tend to be very nationalist, from the very roots. I think that many of us today seek music not with those social and political ideas, but rather with our own character. For example, there is the case of Beto Gismondi, where there is a mixture of jazz and folklore and academic music, but we always hear Brasil. For example, in Piazzola there is definitely a music that has been crafted, an Argentine music — it’s tango, in a clear geographic place.
I think that the concerns of many of us could take us toward many of the genres of Mexico. One of the important things is that tradition not become stuck. In Mexico, many of the traditional genres had their moment, but then stayed there. They do not move forward, like the pirecuas in Michoacan, the son guerrerense, or the famous trova yucateca. It’s as if, as a result of so much commercial music, all that music just stayed where it was, and it no longer moves.
Clave: Is there a lack of promotion on the part of the government?
There is a lack of interest, yes. Lately there have been some scholarships for traditional musicians that are mixing the people who are doing new things with the traditional musicians. That could be a start towards making all this happen. But, surely, there are many genres in Mexico that went no further. There are some groups, budding movements, exceptions —because, in the end, Mexico is a country of exceptions—such as Mono Blanco, Son de Madera in Veracruz, or Guillermo Velázquez. There are some people with the strength and the interest to raise up these genres, but in general it has not happened. Mexico’s music developed in the 20s through the 40s, and somewhat into the 50s. After that, it has stagnated. I think that that is due principally to the bombardment of commercial music. What else could I say? It’s been a stroke of luck to have found, or rather rediscovered, popular music. I was doing a lot of experimental and vanguard music in the 80s. In many instances, toward the early 90s, I was doing a kind of mix between contemporaneous music and popular rhythms. I think that if there are more of us who become accomplices along the way we will be able to rediscover ourselves.
Clave: In your case, how did you come to make the change?
Writing contemporary music for a Mexican from Sonora, from a small town, from the desert, the son of a mariachi father —writing music in the style of other peoples, with such different cultures— brings with it some contradictory chemistry. Many people, especially in my family, my parents, would say to me, “I can’t understand any of your music.” In the end, the academic techniques that I use —orchestration, counterpoint, harmony— as I learned them in school, are only techniques, like when the Brazilians use jazz, it’s no longer jazz, but a technique. Piazzola’s jazz elements are very strong, the way of writing harmony. He knew what he was doing with them, the improvisation and so on. Gismonti did many things as well. It’s a science for us, but the spirit is different. The spirit is ours.
