Antonio Ruiz-Pipó - Works with Guitar 1

Antonio RUIZ-PIPÓ (1934–1997)

Works with Guitar • 1

 1-3 Jarcias (1992)

4-6 Estancias (1970)

7-9 Trio en miniatures (1997) 

10 Nenia a Manuel de Falla (1980)

11-14 Juegos (1990)

15-17 Tres en raya ( version for String Quartet and Guitar) (1978)

Wolfgang Weigel (Guitar)

Angela Sondermann (Flute)1-3-7-9-11-14

Marion Michel (Cor anglais)7-9

Dribon Ibrahimi (Clarinet)11-14

Dimitrinka Tuturilova (Violin) 11-14

Aida Brundell Garcia (Cello) 11-14

Arcana String Quartet, Madrid 15-17

Antonio Ruiz-Pipó (1934–1997) was a versatile musician, shaped by his varied cultural experiences. He was born in Granada, and his Andalusian background never left him, but it was transformed by the Catalan training he received in Barcelona and further broadened by the fact that he went on to live and work in Paris and was, in many respects, an essentially Parisian artist.

A pianist, composer, teacher and writer on music, he devoted much of his time to researching the history of Spanish music and, as well as educating others on the subject, he also drew on historical sources for his own compositions. That fascination with the past is clear in works such as Homenaje a Cabezón, or Tablas, the first of his three guitar concertos.

Although he was a professional pianist with a wide-ranging repertoire, when it came to composing his primary focus was the guitar, for two overlapping reasons—firstly he thought of it as one of the sources of Spanish music, and secondly, he was very familiar with the instrument, having played it in his youth. As well as Tablas, he composed two other guitar concertos: Tres en raya and the Guitar Concerto No. 3, in memory of Narciso Yepes. He also wrote numerous pieces for solo guitar, some of which, such as Canción y danza No. 1, achieved worldwide fame.

Elements of Spain’s early music and folk traditions can be heard in Ruiz-Pipó’s compositions, and his idiom was also unmistakably influenced by the admiration he felt for composers such as Albéniz and Falla. Certain aspects of French music too, logically enough, given his life circumstances, were a source of inspiration. It should not be thought, however, that his music was simply a melting pot of influences. He took different musical ideas and made them his own, not imitating others, but creating his own characteristic idiom. Ruiz-Pipó was a highly individual artist—rigorous, expressive and capable of developing extremely complex harmonic and formal processes while giving them an appearance of utmost simplicity. He’s a composer worth discovering.

Tomás Marco

Antonio Ruiz-Pipó was one of the most idiosyncratic Spanish composers of the 20th century. He shares an unfortunate fate of many émigrés, in that posterity proves to be astonishingly ignorant of his work. His works for guitar in particular, despite the sheer volume of music that he contributed to the instrument’s repertoire, has struggled to achieve any kind of popularity among guitarists. To make matters worse, the view of Ruiz-Pipó tends to be limited to a single early work, the Canción y danza No. 1—a charming piece, but surely the most inoffensive and hackneyed of all his works.

The reason for this ignorance is simple: Ruiz-Pipó’s music does not give up its secrets readily, demands intense study, is technically difficult to play, and has the kind of character whose complexity tends to scare performers off before they have had the chance to unlock the beauty and greatness of this music through long and intense work. The matter is further complicated by the fact that the editions of his works are so scarce as to be virtually impossible to track down without a dedicated search.

All of which makes it even more of a privilege to have met the man in person and become his friend, and through my work alongside him to have gained a deeper insight into his very nature, as an artist and a man.

This is not the place for the kind of anecdotes that any long-standing friendship will have its fair share of. I shall restrict myself to the strictly relevant in my recollections of our association from 1992 to Ruiz-Pipó’s death in 1997. I had become acquainted with several of his compositions long before we met in 1992, thanks to the recordings made by his friends Narciso Yepes and Alberto Ponce, which exerted an irresistible attraction on me. Yet it was only when we began working together that I began to truly appreciate his character and his perspective on music in general and the guitar in particular.

Over the years we explored the entirety of his guitar repertoire, including numerous incomplete sketches, with a view to discovering how the musical spirit of the works and the thoughts behind them might be most aptly and idiomatically translated to the guitar. As a pianist, the many and varied manual difficulties posed by his music were not always apparent to him. Various sonic idiosyncrasies would also surprise him on closer listening and prompted him to make a number of adjustments in the aim of improving his pieces and the performance of his compositions in general. Besides, it was only logical that we should examine his published works and correct the editorial mistakes that we found there. With only a few exceptions we had, by the time of Antonio’s death, managed to revise all his works for guitar, ready for a new and immaculate published set.

The re-publication of Ruiz-Pipó’s works after his death, which disregards his corrections, has only served, far from bringing clarity, to muddy the waters around his music even more.

This release seeks to do a measure of posthumous justice to Ruiz-Pipó, as an artist and a human being, and to offer attentive and interested listeners a better understanding of the beauty and meaning in his music. Antonio Ruiz-Pipó is a significant musician and an essential contemporary witness to a tragic era. His music deserves to be performed, heard and treasured.

The Repertoire

The solo and chamber music works presented here offer an overview of Ruiz-Pipó’s entire creative life between 1960 and 1997. An attentive listener will discover all kinds of seemingly endlessly reappearing tonal motifs. The intriguing instrumental combinations in the ensemble works mark Ruiz-Pipó out as a visionary in sound.

The titles of the pieces have the role of providing them with a thematic framework, in a similar way to paintings and their titles. Here the composer undoubtedly took his cue—among other things—from the titles his brother Manolo Ruiz-Pipó, a successful painter, gave to his works:

Jarcias (1992)

Jarcias (‘Rigging’), a duet for flute and guitar, offers the listener a vivid portrait of an impending sea voyage. In the very title it plays with the motifs of the ship’s equipment—ropes, cables and so forth. We can almost see the ship, its crew and the majesty of the sea before us—in the first movement we experience the ship being made ready for its big journey. In the second movement we hear a meditation on the upcoming sea journey, the varying emotions of humility, unrest, fear and optimism. Finally, in the third movement, the ship thrusts out to sea with a burst of energy, defying all the might of the deep: a metaphor, indeed, for life.

Estancias (1970)

Estancias (‘Places’ / ‘Stopovers’) combines three musical and emotional tributes to three figures who were dear to Antonio Ruiz-Pipó, and in the process offers reminiscences of places that the composer cherished: Karl Scheit, one of the most important exponents of the classical guitar in Vienna, who showed great kindness in supporting the young composer; Alberto Ponce, friend, colleague at the École Normale in Paris and a musician Ruiz-Pipó esteemed highly, who made a profound study of Antonio’s works and with the music of his generation as a whole, was also an icon of the ‘good’ Spain that both men, being émigrés, had lost for ever; Angelo Gilardino, an Italian guitarist, composer and tireless editor of a guitar series featuring works of the 20th century. He embodies Antonio’s love for Italy.

Trio en miniaturas (1997)

The Trio en miniaturas (‘Trio in Miniatures’), with its movements Soliloquio y diálogo (‘Monologue and Dialogue’), Bajo mediterráneo (loosely, ‘in the depths of the Mediterranean world’) and Jeux de cartes (‘Card Game’) is the most Mediterranean of Ruiz-Pipó’s works. The instruments of the cor anglais (‘quasi en Aulos’), flute and guitar (‘quasi una Lyra’) represent the sound of antiquity across the Mediterranean.

Nenia a Manuel de Falla (1980)

Nenia a Manuel de Falla (‘Nänie’ is an ancient Roman song of lament) looks back in highly unconventional fashion to a work that Ruiz-Pipó loved dearly by his idol Manuel de Falla—his Homenaje, pour le tombeau de Claude Debussy (‘Homage, on the grave of Claude Debussy’) for guitar, from 1925. Flamenco-like rhythmic cells and the characteristic semitone tensions pervade the work, which is a nostalgic cante jondo inspired by the composer’s treasured memories of his Andalusian origins and the sounds of his childhood, while also being a tribute to Falla’s sublimation of the flamenco.

Juegos (1990)

Juegos (‘Games’) is divided into the movements Entrada, Moto perpetuo, Interludio and Final. The piece is the most French of all the composer’s works. Here he approaches a style of ostensible simplicity and naivety that had frequently been used by many French composers before him, from Erik Satie to Ruiz-Pipó’s own revered teacher Jean Françaix, with apparently simple melodies, resembling nursery rhymes, solidifying through sound and counterpoint to become highly complex tonal structures. Tres en raya (version for guitar and string quartet) (1978) Tres en raya (corresponding to the game Noughts and Crosses) reveals an intelligent play of confrontation between the guitar and a ‘chorus’ of strings. As with the ancient theatrical interaction between the ‘individual’ and ‘the crowd’, soloist and group confront each other, discussing, arguing and debating and in the process giving rise to a supremely intense and dynamic exchange.

Wolfgang Weigel