Gabriela Ortiz (1964- ) 
Téenek – Invenciones de Territorio 
Duration: ca. 16 minutes 

What to listen for: 
The musical fragments suggest contrast then come together to create a sense of unity and coherence. 

Gabriela Ortiz likes to say she didn’t choose music, it chose her. Born in Mexico City into a family of musicians, her parents founded Los Folkloristas, an ensemble dedicated to Latin American folk music. She joined the band, playing charango and guitar while studying classical piano and later pursued a formal education in London. But composing would be her passion. 

An example of her style, a vibrant synthesis of folk and avant-garde themes, is Téenek — Invenciones de Territorio, commissioned by the Los Angeles Philharmonic and first performed under the baton of Gustavo Dudamel at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in 2017. The work teems with emotional energy and conveys a powerful social message. 

Téenek is the language spoken in the Huasteca region of Mexico and means “local man.” The composer said the 16-minute piece explores the idea of identity and artificial borders — what brings people together and keeps them apart. As a musical metaphor, it expresses a world “where our differences and diversity are recognized as our strength and reminds us of our mutual belonging to the world and each other,” Ortiz said on YouTube.  

Ortiz builds the music on a series of distinct inventions and rhythmic grooves that soon come together, gain strength in their harmonic contrast and resolve in a spirited mambo-like climax. The piece requires a fully loaded percussion section, including Latin instruments such as the güiro, claves, crotales and maracas. 

“What the music really means is that all of us belong to this incredible planet and we have to stand together,” Ortiz added. “Borders are divisions that historically have strong political, geographical and religious consequences. It’s a very angular piece written in fragments that are superimposed. Even though all these materials are very different, they can coexist. It’s electric but coherent.” 

Alberto Ginastera (1916-1983) 
Harp Concerto, Op. 25 
Duration: ca. 23 minutes 

What to listen for: 

This is not your typical “angelic” work for the harp, but a biting, often dissonant adventure for both soloist and audiences. 

It took the first-ever woman to hold a principal chair with a major American orchestra to bring to life a new work for her chosen instrument — the harp. Edna Phillips, who in 1930 made history with the Philadelphia Orchestra by breaking up the all-male club, was determined to do more than just play the harp: She wanted to expand its thin repertoire. So, she approached the Argentine composer Alberto Ginastera to write an original work, which he accepted. 

He completed the score in 1956, but the premiere in Philadelphia had to wait a decade due to political unrest in Argentina and conflicting musical projects. Sadly, Phillips retired from performing by the time of the first performance in 1965, which featured the Spanish virtuoso Nicanor Zabaleta under the baton of Eugene Ormandy. The concerto became Ginastera’s most-performed creation. 

He wrote the work under what he called “subjective nationalism,” an internal and emotional approach to forging a national identity — in this case, a psychological sense of belonging through an indigenous Argentine voice. But he also drew on the rich history of the harp from the Renaissance and Baroque periods in Spain. 

What sets the concerto apart from many other works for harp and orchestra is how it eschews the clichéd angelic aura that has traditionally defined the instrument. Although Ginastera uses lots of cascading glissandos, the music can turn aggressive and biting, the tempos feverish in the outer movements. The central section, however, is tranquil, and here the soloist plays what mirrors an operatic bel canto aria. The finale features a dazzling harp cadenza based on the tuning of an Argentine gaucho’s guitar, and after a four-minute solo, the soloist dives into a vivace for full orchestra — fueled by the percussive rhythms of a malambo folk dance. 

“I love how Ginastera explores the myriad effects possible on the harp in this piece,” said Anna Kate Mackle, TFO’s Principal Harp and soloist in this program. “The glissando is one of the most recognizable sounds on a harp, but Ginastera writes for it to be played in unusual ways, like with fingernails and as rhythmic chord clusters. The middle of the cadenza is beautiful, filled with haunting dissonances and subtle effects. I feel as though I learn something new every time I come back to this piece.” 

Manuel de Falla (1876-1946) 
The Three-Cornered Hat 
Duration: ca. 34 minutes 

What to listen for: 

The two suites evoke Spain’s rich musical landscape and include such dance forms as flamenco, the farruca and the seguidilla. 

As a boy, Falla was determined to be a famous writer. He penned a number of short stories, and his fondness for tales and myths grew alongside his interest in music. He soon realized that words and sounds were hardly incompatible and so he wrote the story lines, or librettos, for his early stage works. 

This synthesis would prove valuable to Falla as an artist, but he struggled to make a living either as a writer or a composer. Most of Spain’s musical tastes at the time were for imported composers, especially Italy, just as concertgoers in the United States preferred traditional European fare. Although a competent pianist, Falla was no virtuoso, and large symphonic forms forced him out of his comfort zone. So, in his mid-20s, Falla settled into a routine as a pedestrian composer of Spanish musicals known as zarzuelas, a sort of poor man’s comic opera.  

His fortunes would soon change. After a fruitful stay in France and diligent study, he returned to Spain and began composing what would be his most popular large work, the Moorish-tinged ballet score for The Three-Cornered Hat. Promoting it was none other than the impresario Diaghilev – who launched Stravinsky’s career − the choreographer Massine and the painter Picasso. Even the Spanish critics, known for their xenophobic aversion to outside influence, praised the ballet for being free of the influence of Debussy and Ravel. 

The ballet involves four characters: the miller and his wife, the corregidor (who wears a three-cornered hat) and his wife, all of whom are embroiled in a jumble of lust, jealousy and mockery. The orchestral suites are rich with Andalusian folk music and highlight such indigenous forms as flamenco, the fiery farruca and the seguidilla. The first suite consists of an introduction followed by Afternoon, Dance of the Miller’s Wife, and the Grapes. The lengthier second suite includes the Dance of the Neighbors, the Dance of the Miller, and the Dance of the Corregidor before ending with a lively jota. 

Kurt Loft is a journalist and music critic who has written for the Tampa Tribune and other publications and arts groups for 45 years. A member of the Music Critics Association of North America, he lives in St. Petersburg.