TY - JOUR
AU - Plesch,, Melanie
AB - Always in my music there is this violent rhythm. Nature is there, sometimes calm, and sometimes with this violence. —Alberto Ginastera Alberto Ginastera’s idiosyncratic manipulation of rhythm is undoubtedly one of his most noticeable trademarks.1 “Sometimes calm, sometimes violent” hemiolic patterns, rhythmic ostinati, and moti perpetui recur throughout his output, from early nationalist pieces such as the famous “Danza del gaucho matrero” from Tres danzas argentinas (1937) to his last work for piano, the Sonata No. 3 (1982). Most of these rhythmic patterns are identified in the scholarly literature as a reference to the Argentine folk dance known as malambo. Indeed, as can be seen in Table 1, more than forty movements from his works are said to be based on, or contain references to, the malambo. This includes both those in his authorized catalogue as well as some later withdrawn by the composer. It would seem that the allure of the malambo is irresistible. Table 1. List of movements of Ginastera’s works identified in the literature as containing malambo elements. This excludes the ones the composer explicitly titled “malambo”: Malambo, Op. 7, and “Danza final (Malambo),” from Estancia, Op. 8 Title Section Opus Year Source (see Appendix for full citations) Impresiones de la Puna “Danza” (3rd mov., Animado) — 1934 (Carballo 2006, 74); (Neel 2017, 57ff). Panambí “Fiesta indígena” 1 1934–37 (Wallace 1968, 50); (Green 2017, 27) Danzas argentinas “I. Danza del viejo boyero” 2 1937 (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wylie 1986, 45); (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 875–76); (Plesch 2002); (Russell 2003, 8); (Lee 2005, 24); (Pittman 2006, 12, 32, 37); (Sottile 2006, 53); (Pironio 2013, 4–5). Danzas argentinas “III. Danza del gaucho matrero” 2 1937 (Chase 1957, 455); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wallace 1968, 34–35); (Suárez Urtubey 1972, 36); (Wylie 1986, 50, 58); (King 1992, 13); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Russell 2003, 9); (Lee 2005, 24, 43, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Pittman 2006, 12, 39–40); (Sottile 2006, 70–74). Cantos del Tucumán “Algarrobo, algarrobal” 4 1938 (Neel 2017, 40, 93). Tres piezas para piano “Criolla” (No. 3) 6 1937–40 (Wylie 1986, 70); (Russell 2003, 9); (Carballo 2006, 74). Estancia “Introducción” 8 1941 (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 879) Obertura para el Fausto criollo 9 1943 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Sottile 2006, 237–4); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Green 2017, 27). Cinco canciones populares argentinas “Gato” (5th mov.) 10 1943 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Danza criolla” (No. 3) 12 1944 (Wallace 1968, 89) (King 1992, 14). Doce Preludios americanos “Para las octavas” (No. 7) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12, 73); (Carballo 2006, 217) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Para los acentos” (No. 1) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12). Duo “Fuga” (3rd mov.) 13 1945 (Neel 2017, 40, 129ff) Suite de danzas criollas “V,” Scherzando 15 1946 (rev. 1956) (Wallace 1968, 116); (Wylie, 1986, pp. 108-110; 114–5); (King 1992, 14); (Basinski 1994, 45); (Russell 2003, 12–13; 74); (Pittman 2006, 12); (Carballo 2006, 113) (“introverted“ malambo). Pampeana No. 1, Rhapsody for violin and piano 16 1947 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Ollantay: Tres movimientos sinfónicos 17 1947 (Wallace 1968, 50; Green 2017, 27). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 2nd mov., Vivacissimo 20 1948 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Carballo 2006, 75); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 4th mov., Allegramente rustico 20 1948 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Pampeana No. 2 21 1950 (Wallace 1968, 155); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Casey 1997, 35–37). Sonata para piano No. 1 1st mov., “Allegro marcato” 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 456); (Russell 2003, 14). Sonata para piano No. 1 2nd mov., Presto misterioso 22 1952 (Wylie 1986, 120); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 17–18); (Pittman 2006, 14; 101); (Carballo 2006, 75, 243, 260) (“introverted” malambo); (Pittman 2006, 112–14); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Sonata para piano No. 1 4th mov., Ruvido ed ostinato 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 454); (Wallace 1968, 175); (Wylie 1986, 124, 125, 127, 131–32); (de los Cobos 1991, 45); (Knafo 1994, 21, 54, 104); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 21); (Pittman 2006, 14, 106); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Variaciones concertantes XII. “Variazione finale in modo di Rondo per Orchestra” 23 1953 (Chase 1957, 454); (Green 2017, 27). Pampeana No. 3 2nd mov., Impetuosamente 24 1954 (rev. 1967) (Chase 1957, 454); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 35); (King 1992, 14); (Green 2017, 27). Harp Concerto 3rd mov. 25 1956 (rev. 1968) (Green 2017, 55). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 1st mov. 26 1958 (rev. 1968) (Wallace 1968, 221–24); (King 1992, 14). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 3rd mov., Presto magico 26 1958 (King 1992, 14); (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo); (Sottile 2006, 134–35, 168–70, 173); (Kuss 2013, 27). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 5th mov., Furioso 26 1958 (Wallace 1968, 241); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Cantata para América mágica “Interludio fantástico” (4th mov., Molto veloce e sempre pianissimo) 27 1960 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Scherzo allucinante” (2nd mov., Veloce) 28 1961 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Toccata concertata” (4th mov., Presto) 28 1961 (Wallace 1968, 266); (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Quinteto para Piano y Cuarteto de cuerdas “Finale” (7th mov.) 29 1963 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para violín “Scherzo pianissimo e perpetuum mobile” (3rd mov., Sempre volante, misterioso e apena sensible) 30 1963 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Scherzo fantastico” (2nd mov., Presto) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Finale” (4th mov.) 33 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para cuerdas “Finale furioso” (4th mov.) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Bomarzo Mascherada, “Tempo di saltarello,” Act 1, sc.7, “Fiesta en Bomarzo” 34 1967 (Buch 2003, 15) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Finale prestissimo” (4th mov., Cadenza e Finale prestissimo) 39 1972 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Scherzo per la mano sinistra” (2nd mov.) 39 1972 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Finale” (4th mov., Presto e fogoso) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (King 1992, 14, 21); (Basinski 1994, 11, 26, 46–55); (Sottile 2006, 202); (Carballo 2006, 74; 190) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Scherzo” (2nd mov., Fantastico. Il più presto possibile) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (Carballo 2006, 75, 83) Sonata para violonchelo y piano 1st mov., Allegro deciso 49 1979 (Casey 1997, 66, 101); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 “Scorrevole” (2nd mov., Adagio sereno, Scorrevole, Ripresa dell’ Adagio) 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 1st mov. 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 3rd mov. 53 1981 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 112) Sonata para piano No. 3 54 1982 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 118) Title Section Opus Year Source (see Appendix for full citations) Impresiones de la Puna “Danza” (3rd mov., Animado) — 1934 (Carballo 2006, 74); (Neel 2017, 57ff). Panambí “Fiesta indígena” 1 1934–37 (Wallace 1968, 50); (Green 2017, 27) Danzas argentinas “I. Danza del viejo boyero” 2 1937 (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wylie 1986, 45); (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 875–76); (Plesch 2002); (Russell 2003, 8); (Lee 2005, 24); (Pittman 2006, 12, 32, 37); (Sottile 2006, 53); (Pironio 2013, 4–5). Danzas argentinas “III. Danza del gaucho matrero” 2 1937 (Chase 1957, 455); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wallace 1968, 34–35); (Suárez Urtubey 1972, 36); (Wylie 1986, 50, 58); (King 1992, 13); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Russell 2003, 9); (Lee 2005, 24, 43, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Pittman 2006, 12, 39–40); (Sottile 2006, 70–74). Cantos del Tucumán “Algarrobo, algarrobal” 4 1938 (Neel 2017, 40, 93). Tres piezas para piano “Criolla” (No. 3) 6 1937–40 (Wylie 1986, 70); (Russell 2003, 9); (Carballo 2006, 74). Estancia “Introducción” 8 1941 (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 879) Obertura para el Fausto criollo 9 1943 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Sottile 2006, 237–4); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Green 2017, 27). Cinco canciones populares argentinas “Gato” (5th mov.) 10 1943 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Danza criolla” (No. 3) 12 1944 (Wallace 1968, 89) (King 1992, 14). Doce Preludios americanos “Para las octavas” (No. 7) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12, 73); (Carballo 2006, 217) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Para los acentos” (No. 1) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12). Duo “Fuga” (3rd mov.) 13 1945 (Neel 2017, 40, 129ff) Suite de danzas criollas “V,” Scherzando 15 1946 (rev. 1956) (Wallace 1968, 116); (Wylie, 1986, pp. 108-110; 114–5); (King 1992, 14); (Basinski 1994, 45); (Russell 2003, 12–13; 74); (Pittman 2006, 12); (Carballo 2006, 113) (“introverted“ malambo). Pampeana No. 1, Rhapsody for violin and piano 16 1947 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Ollantay: Tres movimientos sinfónicos 17 1947 (Wallace 1968, 50; Green 2017, 27). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 2nd mov., Vivacissimo 20 1948 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Carballo 2006, 75); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 4th mov., Allegramente rustico 20 1948 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Pampeana No. 2 21 1950 (Wallace 1968, 155); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Casey 1997, 35–37). Sonata para piano No. 1 1st mov., “Allegro marcato” 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 456); (Russell 2003, 14). Sonata para piano No. 1 2nd mov., Presto misterioso 22 1952 (Wylie 1986, 120); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 17–18); (Pittman 2006, 14; 101); (Carballo 2006, 75, 243, 260) (“introverted” malambo); (Pittman 2006, 112–14); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Sonata para piano No. 1 4th mov., Ruvido ed ostinato 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 454); (Wallace 1968, 175); (Wylie 1986, 124, 125, 127, 131–32); (de los Cobos 1991, 45); (Knafo 1994, 21, 54, 104); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 21); (Pittman 2006, 14, 106); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Variaciones concertantes XII. “Variazione finale in modo di Rondo per Orchestra” 23 1953 (Chase 1957, 454); (Green 2017, 27). Pampeana No. 3 2nd mov., Impetuosamente 24 1954 (rev. 1967) (Chase 1957, 454); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 35); (King 1992, 14); (Green 2017, 27). Harp Concerto 3rd mov. 25 1956 (rev. 1968) (Green 2017, 55). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 1st mov. 26 1958 (rev. 1968) (Wallace 1968, 221–24); (King 1992, 14). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 3rd mov., Presto magico 26 1958 (King 1992, 14); (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo); (Sottile 2006, 134–35, 168–70, 173); (Kuss 2013, 27). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 5th mov., Furioso 26 1958 (Wallace 1968, 241); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Cantata para América mágica “Interludio fantástico” (4th mov., Molto veloce e sempre pianissimo) 27 1960 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Scherzo allucinante” (2nd mov., Veloce) 28 1961 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Toccata concertata” (4th mov., Presto) 28 1961 (Wallace 1968, 266); (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Quinteto para Piano y Cuarteto de cuerdas “Finale” (7th mov.) 29 1963 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para violín “Scherzo pianissimo e perpetuum mobile” (3rd mov., Sempre volante, misterioso e apena sensible) 30 1963 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Scherzo fantastico” (2nd mov., Presto) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Finale” (4th mov.) 33 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para cuerdas “Finale furioso” (4th mov.) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Bomarzo Mascherada, “Tempo di saltarello,” Act 1, sc.7, “Fiesta en Bomarzo” 34 1967 (Buch 2003, 15) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Finale prestissimo” (4th mov., Cadenza e Finale prestissimo) 39 1972 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Scherzo per la mano sinistra” (2nd mov.) 39 1972 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Finale” (4th mov., Presto e fogoso) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (King 1992, 14, 21); (Basinski 1994, 11, 26, 46–55); (Sottile 2006, 202); (Carballo 2006, 74; 190) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Scherzo” (2nd mov., Fantastico. Il più presto possibile) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (Carballo 2006, 75, 83) Sonata para violonchelo y piano 1st mov., Allegro deciso 49 1979 (Casey 1997, 66, 101); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 “Scorrevole” (2nd mov., Adagio sereno, Scorrevole, Ripresa dell’ Adagio) 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 1st mov. 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 3rd mov. 53 1981 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 112) Sonata para piano No. 3 54 1982 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 118) Table 1. List of movements of Ginastera’s works identified in the literature as containing malambo elements. This excludes the ones the composer explicitly titled “malambo”: Malambo, Op. 7, and “Danza final (Malambo),” from Estancia, Op. 8 Title Section Opus Year Source (see Appendix for full citations) Impresiones de la Puna “Danza” (3rd mov., Animado) — 1934 (Carballo 2006, 74); (Neel 2017, 57ff). Panambí “Fiesta indígena” 1 1934–37 (Wallace 1968, 50); (Green 2017, 27) Danzas argentinas “I. Danza del viejo boyero” 2 1937 (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wylie 1986, 45); (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 875–76); (Plesch 2002); (Russell 2003, 8); (Lee 2005, 24); (Pittman 2006, 12, 32, 37); (Sottile 2006, 53); (Pironio 2013, 4–5). Danzas argentinas “III. Danza del gaucho matrero” 2 1937 (Chase 1957, 455); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wallace 1968, 34–35); (Suárez Urtubey 1972, 36); (Wylie 1986, 50, 58); (King 1992, 13); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Russell 2003, 9); (Lee 2005, 24, 43, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Pittman 2006, 12, 39–40); (Sottile 2006, 70–74). Cantos del Tucumán “Algarrobo, algarrobal” 4 1938 (Neel 2017, 40, 93). Tres piezas para piano “Criolla” (No. 3) 6 1937–40 (Wylie 1986, 70); (Russell 2003, 9); (Carballo 2006, 74). Estancia “Introducción” 8 1941 (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 879) Obertura para el Fausto criollo 9 1943 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Sottile 2006, 237–4); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Green 2017, 27). Cinco canciones populares argentinas “Gato” (5th mov.) 10 1943 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Danza criolla” (No. 3) 12 1944 (Wallace 1968, 89) (King 1992, 14). Doce Preludios americanos “Para las octavas” (No. 7) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12, 73); (Carballo 2006, 217) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Para los acentos” (No. 1) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12). Duo “Fuga” (3rd mov.) 13 1945 (Neel 2017, 40, 129ff) Suite de danzas criollas “V,” Scherzando 15 1946 (rev. 1956) (Wallace 1968, 116); (Wylie, 1986, pp. 108-110; 114–5); (King 1992, 14); (Basinski 1994, 45); (Russell 2003, 12–13; 74); (Pittman 2006, 12); (Carballo 2006, 113) (“introverted“ malambo). Pampeana No. 1, Rhapsody for violin and piano 16 1947 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Ollantay: Tres movimientos sinfónicos 17 1947 (Wallace 1968, 50; Green 2017, 27). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 2nd mov., Vivacissimo 20 1948 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Carballo 2006, 75); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 4th mov., Allegramente rustico 20 1948 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Pampeana No. 2 21 1950 (Wallace 1968, 155); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Casey 1997, 35–37). Sonata para piano No. 1 1st mov., “Allegro marcato” 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 456); (Russell 2003, 14). Sonata para piano No. 1 2nd mov., Presto misterioso 22 1952 (Wylie 1986, 120); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 17–18); (Pittman 2006, 14; 101); (Carballo 2006, 75, 243, 260) (“introverted” malambo); (Pittman 2006, 112–14); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Sonata para piano No. 1 4th mov., Ruvido ed ostinato 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 454); (Wallace 1968, 175); (Wylie 1986, 124, 125, 127, 131–32); (de los Cobos 1991, 45); (Knafo 1994, 21, 54, 104); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 21); (Pittman 2006, 14, 106); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Variaciones concertantes XII. “Variazione finale in modo di Rondo per Orchestra” 23 1953 (Chase 1957, 454); (Green 2017, 27). Pampeana No. 3 2nd mov., Impetuosamente 24 1954 (rev. 1967) (Chase 1957, 454); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 35); (King 1992, 14); (Green 2017, 27). Harp Concerto 3rd mov. 25 1956 (rev. 1968) (Green 2017, 55). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 1st mov. 26 1958 (rev. 1968) (Wallace 1968, 221–24); (King 1992, 14). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 3rd mov., Presto magico 26 1958 (King 1992, 14); (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo); (Sottile 2006, 134–35, 168–70, 173); (Kuss 2013, 27). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 5th mov., Furioso 26 1958 (Wallace 1968, 241); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Cantata para América mágica “Interludio fantástico” (4th mov., Molto veloce e sempre pianissimo) 27 1960 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Scherzo allucinante” (2nd mov., Veloce) 28 1961 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Toccata concertata” (4th mov., Presto) 28 1961 (Wallace 1968, 266); (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Quinteto para Piano y Cuarteto de cuerdas “Finale” (7th mov.) 29 1963 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para violín “Scherzo pianissimo e perpetuum mobile” (3rd mov., Sempre volante, misterioso e apena sensible) 30 1963 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Scherzo fantastico” (2nd mov., Presto) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Finale” (4th mov.) 33 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para cuerdas “Finale furioso” (4th mov.) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Bomarzo Mascherada, “Tempo di saltarello,” Act 1, sc.7, “Fiesta en Bomarzo” 34 1967 (Buch 2003, 15) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Finale prestissimo” (4th mov., Cadenza e Finale prestissimo) 39 1972 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Scherzo per la mano sinistra” (2nd mov.) 39 1972 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Finale” (4th mov., Presto e fogoso) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (King 1992, 14, 21); (Basinski 1994, 11, 26, 46–55); (Sottile 2006, 202); (Carballo 2006, 74; 190) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Scherzo” (2nd mov., Fantastico. Il più presto possibile) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (Carballo 2006, 75, 83) Sonata para violonchelo y piano 1st mov., Allegro deciso 49 1979 (Casey 1997, 66, 101); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 “Scorrevole” (2nd mov., Adagio sereno, Scorrevole, Ripresa dell’ Adagio) 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 1st mov. 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 3rd mov. 53 1981 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 112) Sonata para piano No. 3 54 1982 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 118) Title Section Opus Year Source (see Appendix for full citations) Impresiones de la Puna “Danza” (3rd mov., Animado) — 1934 (Carballo 2006, 74); (Neel 2017, 57ff). Panambí “Fiesta indígena” 1 1934–37 (Wallace 1968, 50); (Green 2017, 27) Danzas argentinas “I. Danza del viejo boyero” 2 1937 (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wylie 1986, 45); (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 875–76); (Plesch 2002); (Russell 2003, 8); (Lee 2005, 24); (Pittman 2006, 12, 32, 37); (Sottile 2006, 53); (Pironio 2013, 4–5). Danzas argentinas “III. Danza del gaucho matrero” 2 1937 (Chase 1957, 455); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 14); (Wallace 1968, 34–35); (Suárez Urtubey 1972, 36); (Wylie 1986, 50, 58); (King 1992, 13); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Russell 2003, 9); (Lee 2005, 24, 43, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Pittman 2006, 12, 39–40); (Sottile 2006, 70–74). Cantos del Tucumán “Algarrobo, algarrobal” 4 1938 (Neel 2017, 40, 93). Tres piezas para piano “Criolla” (No. 3) 6 1937–40 (Wylie 1986, 70); (Russell 2003, 9); (Carballo 2006, 74). Estancia “Introducción” 8 1941 (Schwartz-Kates 1997, 879) Obertura para el Fausto criollo 9 1943 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Sottile 2006, 237–4); (Carballo 2006, 74); (Green 2017, 27). Cinco canciones populares argentinas “Gato” (5th mov.) 10 1943 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Danza criolla” (No. 3) 12 1944 (Wallace 1968, 89) (King 1992, 14). Doce Preludios americanos “Para las octavas” (No. 7) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12, 73); (Carballo 2006, 217) (“extroverted” malambo). Doce Preludios americanos “Para los acentos” (No. 1) 12 1944 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Pittman 2006, 12). Duo “Fuga” (3rd mov.) 13 1945 (Neel 2017, 40, 129ff) Suite de danzas criollas “V,” Scherzando 15 1946 (rev. 1956) (Wallace 1968, 116); (Wylie, 1986, pp. 108-110; 114–5); (King 1992, 14); (Basinski 1994, 45); (Russell 2003, 12–13; 74); (Pittman 2006, 12); (Carballo 2006, 113) (“introverted“ malambo). Pampeana No. 1, Rhapsody for violin and piano 16 1947 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Ollantay: Tres movimientos sinfónicos 17 1947 (Wallace 1968, 50; Green 2017, 27). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 2nd mov., Vivacissimo 20 1948 (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Carballo 2006, 75); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). 1er Cuarteto de cuerdas (String Quartet No. 1) 4th mov., Allegramente rustico 20 1948 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Pampeana No. 2 21 1950 (Wallace 1968, 155); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Casey 1997, 35–37). Sonata para piano No. 1 1st mov., “Allegro marcato” 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 456); (Russell 2003, 14). Sonata para piano No. 1 2nd mov., Presto misterioso 22 1952 (Wylie 1986, 120); (Knafo 1994, 21); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 17–18); (Pittman 2006, 14; 101); (Carballo 2006, 75, 243, 260) (“introverted” malambo); (Pittman 2006, 112–14); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Sonata para piano No. 1 4th mov., Ruvido ed ostinato 22 1952 (Chase 1957, 454); (Wallace 1968, 175); (Wylie 1986, 124, 125, 127, 131–32); (de los Cobos 1991, 45); (Knafo 1994, 21, 54, 104); (Scarabino 1996, 98); (Russell 2003, 21); (Pittman 2006, 14, 106); (Schwartz-Kates 2014). Variaciones concertantes XII. “Variazione finale in modo di Rondo per Orchestra” 23 1953 (Chase 1957, 454); (Green 2017, 27). Pampeana No. 3 2nd mov., Impetuosamente 24 1954 (rev. 1967) (Chase 1957, 454); (Suárez Urtubey 1967, 35); (King 1992, 14); (Green 2017, 27). Harp Concerto 3rd mov. 25 1956 (rev. 1968) (Green 2017, 55). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 1st mov. 26 1958 (rev. 1968) (Wallace 1968, 221–24); (King 1992, 14). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 3rd mov., Presto magico 26 1958 (King 1992, 14); (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo); (Sottile 2006, 134–35, 168–70, 173); (Kuss 2013, 27). Cuarteto de cuerdas No. 2 5th mov., Furioso 26 1958 (Wallace 1968, 241); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Cantata para América mágica “Interludio fantástico” (4th mov., Molto veloce e sempre pianissimo) 27 1960 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Scherzo allucinante” (2nd mov., Veloce) 28 1961 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para piano No. 1 “Toccata concertata” (4th mov., Presto) 28 1961 (Wallace 1968, 266); (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Quinteto para Piano y Cuarteto de cuerdas “Finale” (7th mov.) 29 1963 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para violín “Scherzo pianissimo e perpetuum mobile” (3rd mov., Sempre volante, misterioso e apena sensible) 30 1963 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Scherzo fantastico” (2nd mov., Presto) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Concierto para cuerdas “Finale” (4th mov.) 33 (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Concierto para cuerdas “Finale furioso” (4th mov.) 33 1965 (rev. 1967) (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo) Bomarzo Mascherada, “Tempo di saltarello,” Act 1, sc.7, “Fiesta en Bomarzo” 34 1967 (Buch 2003, 15) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Finale prestissimo” (4th mov., Cadenza e Finale prestissimo) 39 1972 (Basinski 1994, 46); (Carballo 2006, 74) Concierto para piano No. 2 “Scherzo per la mano sinistra” (2nd mov.) 39 1972 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Finale” (4th mov., Presto e fogoso) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (King 1992, 14, 21); (Basinski 1994, 11, 26, 46–55); (Sottile 2006, 202); (Carballo 2006, 74; 190) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para guitarra “Scherzo” (2nd mov., Fantastico. Il più presto possibile) 47 1977–78 (rev. 1981) (Carballo 2006, 75, 83) Sonata para violonchelo y piano 1st mov., Allegro deciso 49 1979 (Casey 1997, 66, 101); (Carballo 2006, 74) (“extroverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 “Scorrevole” (2nd mov., Adagio sereno, Scorrevole, Ripresa dell’ Adagio) 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 1st mov. 53 1981 (Carballo 2006, 75) (“introverted” malambo). Sonata para piano No. 2 3rd mov. 53 1981 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 112) Sonata para piano No. 3 54 1982 (Knafo 1994, 104); (Pittman 2006, 118) A cursory inspection of the works listed in Table 1 reveals some striking differences. While some feature unequivocal malambo figures and partake of the expressive spectrum traditionally associated with the dance, others display patterns that clearly point to different Argentine vernacular genres, or even to European dances. Yet others, conveying supernatural, ominous, or uncanny affects, have a moto perpetuo in quavers as their only claim to malambo-ness. Eerie movements such as the “Presto misterioso” from Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22, are found side by side with the energetic “Allegramente rustico” from the String Quartet No. 1 and the jaunty “Fuga” from the Duo for Flute and Oboe. But is the malambo so pliable as to accommodate comfortably such dissimilar musical figures? This article is an invitation to resist the malambo. I contend that the “Ginasterian malambo” is a trope of discourse constructed in, and perpetuated by, the scholarly literature. This construct is disassembled here. First, I trace its lineage from the earliest occurrence to the present, showing how the malambo myth unfolded and how it was expanded upon as it was transmitted from one author to the next. I then examine the collection of so-called Ginasterian malambos and attempt to unravel it. The corpus examined comprises all the works listed in Table 1. Since it would not be possible to discuss each piece in detail, I have organized the discussion in groups. I present first those works with unquestionable references to the malambo; then, I identify the musical topics that have been mistaken for the malambo in the rest of the corpus and discuss representative examples of each. Before embarking on this analysis, I provide some theoretical and methodological considerations: the conceptualization of vernacular references as musical topics and the boundaries of topical identification in the face of abstraction. I also offer a cultural, historical, and musical history of the malambo in Argentine culture and trace the development of its characteristic musical features and expressive connotations in vernacular, popular, and art music.2 Inventing the Ginasterian Malambo The history of the Ginasterian malambo resembles a game of Chinese whispers. Gilbert Chase’s classic article on the composer, published in this journal in 1957, is possibly the most influential of the early references to the Ginasterian malambo that would prove so fateful in the history of Ginastera research.3 Chase’s acquaintance with Ginastera and his music began with the composer’s visit to the United States in 1945–47. Their friendship developed further in the years 1953–55 when Chase resided in Buenos Aires as cultural attaché for the US Foreign Service.4 This situation also provided Chase with further exposure to Ginastera’s works, as well as to Argentine culture. Chase’s article was the first substantial study of the composer’s works and contains many insights, including the first discussion of Ginastera’s signature motive based on the sounds of the open strings of the guitar, which he memorably labelled the “symbolic chord,”5 and the concept of “subjective sublimation,” which would later be taken up by the composer as well as by some biographers.6 He also identifies what he calls a “recurrent rhythmic element, derived from the Argentine rural dance tradition, particularly the malambo.”7 Given Ginastera’s penchant for explaining his music (as attested by the many prefaces and program notes he wrote throughout his life), it is tempting to entertain the possibility that some of Chase’s analytical observations had been dictated by the composer. There is, however, no evidence of this. From the correspondence between Chase and Ginastera in 1957, it seems clear that Chase arrived at his analytical insights by himself. In a letter dated 21 January, he states, “At last I have been able to listen quietly to the recordings of your music, score in hand, to soak in its essence and feel its deep connection with Argentine traditional music.”8 On 23 April he asked the composer numerous questions, none of them of a musical nature. He was mostly interested in the accuracy of his catalogue of Ginastera’s works, and in confirming which works the composer had withdrawn. Chase also reiterates a request for a portrait, and the score of Pampeana No. 3. Ginastera does not seem to have written back and in the next letter, of 18 June, Chase sends him a draft of the article, mentioning that he hopes to expand it eventually into a book-length monograph.9 The composer finally replied. It was a lengthy and detailed letter with numbered references clarifying specific points in the now annotated draft, which was returned to Chase.10 Nearly all of Ginastera’s comments refer to factual matters such as dates and withdrawn works, with the exception of a mention of a rhythm that “coincides with that of the ‘zamba’ although the movement is much more accelerated than the traditional rhythm of this dance”—this comment can be connected to the reference in the article to the Obertura para el Fausto criollo.11 In this letter, Ginastera also transcribes the full quote of Ventura Lynch’s 1883 description of a malambo contest, “should you be interested in quoting it.”12 Chase indeed quotes it, although acknowledging as the source Carlos Vega’s transcript in his Las danzas populares argentinas of 1952,13 which is also the source for his characterization of the malambo as consisting of “a metrical pattern of six units to the measure.”14 Chase then offers a table summarizing “the basic pattern and some of its most common variants.”15 These “variants” are offered in groups of two measures, resulting in phrase combinations that do not exist in the malambo, such as the sequence of four dotted quavers (row 2 of Chase’s table), or the four groups of quaver-crotchet patterns (row 3).16 Careful reading of Chase’s text indicates that his table is not meant to represent folk malambo patterns but rather recurring rhythms found in Ginastera’s works, which he interpreted as stylizations of the malambo. He states: Ginastera writes his malambo movements considerably faster … he is never concerned with a literal interpretation … but rather with the idea of the dance: its energy, controlled motion, virile strength, and cumulative emotional impact.17 This statement would have far-reaching consequences, as it inaugurates the idea of “malambo movements.” As we shall see, this idea has persisted in the literature until the present and is the basis on which much of the malambo myth rests. Earlier in 1957 Chase had written a shorter article on the composer, published in Tempo, in which he commented upon a selection of works.18 This article is also significant, as the author pronounced the rhythmic patterns of several pieces to be references to the malambo: the “Allegro violento ed agitato,” and the “Vivacissimo,” first and second movements of the String Quartet No. 1; the “Presto misterioso” and “Ruvido ed ostinato,” second and fourth movements of the Piano Sonata No. 1; and the finale, “Variazione finale in modo de rondo” of the Variaciones concertantes. With the exception of the “Ruvido ed ostinato,” all these attributions are problematic, mistaking for malambo what are in fact references to pala pala, gato, and bailecito, among others. Particularly important is the rationale for the alleged malambo-like character of the opening measures of the “Vivacissimo” and the “Presto misterioso,” as it might have provided the basis for further malambo attributions of a constellation of movements with similar characteristics. Both feature a motu perpetuo in quavers in 6/8, indicated pianissimo, their expressive domain closer to the mysterious than to ideas of “virile strength.” In Chase's view, the six-quaver ostinato—which he calls “the familiar pattern”—is evidence enough of the presence of the spirit of the malambo, “sublimated to the ‘nth’ degree.”19 This attribution does not appear to have sprung from an examination of the relationship between the vernacular malambo (or at least what was understood as such in the composer’s contemporary musical environment) and Ginastera’s music. Rather, it seems to be connected to Chase’s concept of “subjective sublimation,” which he had found useful in his analysis of Ginastera’s manipulation of the guitar chord. Its application to dance musical figures, however, is not without risks. When dealing with “sublimations,” we need to establish the extent to which a characteristic pattern can be abstracted and still retain its identity, something that Chase does not seem to have contemplated. A further problem to consider is that sublimation implies transforming something “into a higher, nobler, or more refined state.”20 This idea is consistent with a view of vernacular music as something base that needs to be further stylized and with a historiographical tradition that gives higher value to composers who exhibit a more detached relationship to folk sources.21 Ginastera clearly shared these views, as evinced in his distinction between what he called “objective” and “subjective” nationalism and his insistence on his later works not having “a single folk cell.”22 Echoes of Chase’s ideas about the malambo can be found in David Wallace’s study of 1964, the first doctoral dissertation dedicated to Ginastera.23 A concept that emerges from Wallace’s text is that of the “malambo hemiola,” which is mentioned often in the context of a range of Ginastera’s rhythmic patterns. The author seems to have made a one-to-one correspondence between hemiolic rhythms and the malambo.24 For instance, he states that “the shift from 3/4 to 6/8 which characterizes the malambo is used extensively in ‘The Land Workers.’”25 This is an unfortunate logical error, for while it is true that the malambo features hemiolas, so do many Argentine vernacular dances. The presence of a hemiola does not univocally point to a malambo topic. Chase’s idea of “subjective sublimation” may have been influential here, since Wallace refers earlier to “Ginastera’s sublimation of the dance type [the malambo] in his works.”26 Wallace’s otherwise praiseworthy text also contributed to the establishment of a connection between fast movements and the malambo. For instance, he observes that “in his fast movements, Ginastera seems capable of producing an endless number of variations on a basic malambo motive, all similar in range and contour but different in detail.”27 But topics, like the devil, are in the detail. As we shall see, what Wallace interpreted as “endless variations” point to other vernacular genres in Ginastera’s musical rhetoric. As the information was read and interpreted by subsequent scholars, its meaning was subtly but steadily modified—further steps in our Chinese whispers game. Thus, somehow the idea of malambo motives in fast movements becomes “malambo sections” and even “malambo movements.” For instance, paraphrasing Chase, Mary Ann Hanley states that Ginastera “tries to embody in his malambo movements the spirit of the dance: its energy, virile strength, and emotional impact.”28 Similar statements can be found in various Doctor of Musical Arts (DMA) theses, where we read about “malambo movements,”29 “idealized malambo movements,” and “malambo-influenced movements.”30 In her comprehensive doctoral dissertation of 1997, Deborah Schwartz-Kates offers a substantial critique of Chase’s statements, noting that some of the rhythmic patterns used by Ginastera belong to other vernacular genres, such as gato, zamba, and huella, pointing out that a “re-examination” of the malambo is long overdue.31 It is interesting to note, however, that this scholar still referred to the sections containing such rhythms as malambos. For example, she states: “the composer additionally incorporates less common dance rhythms within malambo sections of his works,” and “many of his malambos incorporate one of the most fundamental rhythms associated with both folkloric … and artistic renditions … of the gato.”32 This fact is indicative of a phenomenon at the esthesic level: by the 1990s in North American scholarly circles Ginastera’s fast movements with hemiolic rhythms had become synonymous with malambo. Schwartz-Kates’s influence on North American scholarship on Argentine art music has no doubt contributed to perpetuating this idea. The persistence of Chase’s concept of “subjective sublimation” can be detected in references about Ginastera’s idealization of the genre in his works, even when the rhythms therein are identified as not being malambos. Thus, in her Grove article on the composer, Schwartz-Kates refers to Ginastera “representing the malambo” with a pattern of six eighth notes over which “he superimposed codified dance rhythms of genres such as the gato and zamba.”33 The question that arises is why Ginastera would use a gato or a zamba pattern to “represent” the malambo. This is a clear example of the potency of the malambo myth. In short, following Chase’s dictum, scholars have interpreted a six-quaver ostinato as indicative of a malambo; proceeding from this assumption, they then have trouble reconciling the presence of rhythmic patterns from other vernacular dances. Their solution to this predicament, rather than any other conceivable alternative, such as that they may be actual references to gatos, zambas, etc., has been to pronounce them “subjective” renditions of the malambo. This interpretation, however, is based on a false premise: a six-quaver ostinato, like the hemiola, is not a feature exclusive to the accompaniment of the malambo; rather, it can be found in many Argentine vernacular dances. By itself it is too generic to ground topical identification. It is worth noting that there is no evidence that Ginastera was trying to represent, stylize, or idealize the malambo in his fast movements. The concept that does appear in his statements is that of strong, violent rhythms, sometimes characterized as “masculine” or associated with “masculine dances.” But men dance more than the malambo in Argentina. Of all the authors examined here, Gerard Béhague has been the most circumspect. He reproduces Chase’s table of “rhythmic variants of the malambo” and states that the final sections of some works “utilize malambo rhythmic elements.” He does not call these final sections malambos but rather refers to them as “rhythmic, toccata-like final movements.”34 Proceeding further from these assumptions, Eric Carballo, in his 2006 doctoral dissertation, constructs an object that he calls “Ginasterian malambo,” which, he claims, “stems more from a combination of the malambo, the gato, and other elements common to gaucho music, rather than deriving specifically from the traditional malambo itself.”35 Again we find here the assimilation of the malambo with fast movements presenting hemiolic rhythms and ostinato quavers in 6/8. Carballo, however, raises the stakes and expands the Ginasterian malambo to include movements with soft dynamics, a “mysterious or magical” character, and less clear tonality.36 Aware of the substantial musical and expressive disparity between these movements and the malambo,37 he forges a new category, which he calls “introvert malambo.”38 In his use of the dance, he claims, Ginastera reflected the “extrovert/introvert dichotomy” of the gaucho’s personality. Thus, in Carballo’s view, there is an “extrovert” malambo, fast and loud, and an “introvert” one, “fast and soft.”39 This imprudent pronouncement takes the idea of “subjective sublimation” beyond what seems plausible: like the happy lament, the “introvert malambo” is an oxymoron. While it is true that Ginastera attempted to represent the more mournful elements of the Argentine national character, he did it through vernacular topics that possess those expressive connotations, such as the triste (another recurring element in his oeuvre) and the milonga. Carballo also misrepresents the composer when he states: “He appropriates these rhythms, such as the gato, zamba, and malambo, calling them ‘malambo’—when he identifies them at all.”40 Ginastera—it is sobering to remember—only gave the name malambo to two works: Malambo, Op. 7, and the “Danza final (Malambo)” from the ballet Estancia, Op. 8.41 The “Ginasterian malambo” Carballo refers to only exists in the mind of scholars. Folk Idioms as Topics At this point, it is worth considering how to conceptualize musical references to the malambo, or to any other vernacular song or dance for that matter. The theory of musical topics, set in motion by Leonard Ratner and further developed by authors such as Kofi Agawu, Wye Allanbrook, Robert Hatten, and Raymond Monelle, among many others, provides a fruitful theoretical background. Within traditional historiography, references to vernacular songs or dances are classified as “folk idioms.” They tend to have a bad reputation these days and are often dismissed as banal touches of local color, associated with facile strategies and naive views of cultural identity proper to the bygone era of Romantic nationalism. Contemptible though they may be (at least to some), folk dance rhythms, melodic gestures typical of song types, or textures invoking the timbre of folk ensembles all carry cultural and expressive associations that listeners with “stylistic competency”—to use Robert Hatten’s words—can recognize.42 In that regard, as I have proposed elsewhere,43 they can be fruitfully conceptualized as musical topics.44 Like the dance topics of eighteenth-century Europe, vernacular topics carry a wealth of semiotic information and thus provide a window into composers’ construction of meaning. Furthermore, these meanings are enmeshed in broader cultural tropes that can be detected in other discursive practices, such as literature and the visual arts. Examples include the topos of the huella, linked to the cultural representation of landscape (the Pampa), and the topoi of the triste and the estilo, intrinsically related to that Argentine national Affekt, the pena estrordinaria or “extraordinary sorrow.”45 Mutatis Mutandis: Topical Abstraction and Its Problems Like their European counterparts, vernacular topics may appear as “fully worked-out pieces … or as figures and progressions within a piece.”46 Sometimes they closely resemble the dance or song they represent, sometimes they have undergone a process of abstraction. The more abstract the reference, the more challenging the process of topical identification. There are, however, limits to these abstraction processes beyond which the identity of the topic is no longer recognizable. The act of topical identification requires a subtle balance between empirical evidence, cultural awareness, and context. A musical topic is detected by the presence of certain characteristic features that usually involve meter, rhythmic patterns, melodic contour, phrasing, harmony, texture, accompaniment patterns, and dynamics. Some of these attributes are necessary while others are expendable—or can be subverted for the purposes of irony.47 Being able to differentiate between the two, that is, recognize the essential from the nonessential, is a necessary condition of “topical literacy.” But identifying a topic requires more than compiling a parametric inventory: topics also exhibit specific moods and affects, and carry cultural meanings that need to be weighed during the process of disambiguation. The ways in which all this information is combined in the context of use is a key factor in defining the boundaries of topical identity. Argentine vernacular songs and dances, especially those from the Pampean region, share a number of generic elements. The “metrical pattern of six units to the measure” and the hemiola mentioned in the literature on Ginastera as characteristics of the malambo are two such cases. Strummed accompaniments of six quavers, for instance, can be found in examples as dissimilar as the north-western dance bailecito, and the north-eastern song litoraleña, while hemiolic patterns alternating or superimposing 6/8 and 3/4 are present in nearly all Pampean and northern dances such as the gato, chacarera, escondido, triunfo, and pala pala, among others. Therefore, it would be unwise to base the identification of a topic on such generic elements only. It is through the combination of elements within the context of use, the presence or absence of certain features—what Kofi Agawu calls “the force of contextual factors”48— that it is possible to disambiguate between, for example, a reference to a gato and a reference to a chacarera.49 The emphasis on the word reference in the last sentence is deliberate, as it is crucial to keep in mind that the topic of a vernacular dance does not reproduce the dance itself, but rather points to the conventions by which art music has come to represent the idea of this dance. The coinage of those conventions—toward the last decade of the nineteenth century—predates the ethnographic collection and scholarly study of Argentine traditional music, which did not start until the 1930s.50 Influential in this process was the publication in 1883 of Ventura Lynch’s account of the life, customs, poetry, and music of the peasant population of the province of Buenos Aires, which includes transcriptions of vernacular songs and dances that he collected from various sources. Despite their frequent notational idiosyncrasies—Lynch was challenged by the nuances of oral delivery—these transcriptions were crucial in establishing the urban imagination of vernacular music.51 Some of the melodies he published also appear—with various degrees of elaboration—in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century salon versions for piano or guitar and were eventually topicalized and incorporated into art music.52 Understanding a vernacular topic in art music, however, requires more than a comparison with the exemplars described in the ethnomusicological literature. Argentine composers were not folksong collectors, nor did they study vernacular music systematically. While some may have interacted with peasant musicians in the countryside while traveling, or on the family estate,53 their exposure to vernacular music was mainly through urban renditions.54 Since at least the late nineteenth century, vernacular music was re-created in the capital city of Buenos Aires by urban singers and small ensembles and was incorporated into popular forms of entertainment such as the creole circus and theater. Its dissemination was further assisted, after the 1920s, by the boom in recording technology and the emergence of the radio and film industries.55 Particularly influential were the activities of Andrés Chazarreta, whose Compañía de Arte Nativo—a troupe of musicians and dancers from the northern province of Santiago del Estero—introduced porteño audiences to the music of Argentina’s Northwest with great success.56 Thus, the urban perception of vernacular music, from which Ginastera drew, is the result of a process of construction and normalization that took place over more than two centuries and involved the activities of various social actors—many of whom were not peasants themselves: the performers of the creole circus, upper-class collectors such as Lynch, musicians such as Chazarreta and his troupe, as well as the mass media—the early recording industry, radio, and film. In this regard, the malambo is a clear example of an invented tradition. In order to understand the malambo, it is necessary to reconstruct the process through which its musical signifier and expressive connotations were cemented and disseminated. This calls for a full archaeology of the topic, drawing from all available sources: early commercial recordings, sheet music, salon music, and even scenes in early film. Moreover, it requires tracing its intertextual relations in art music, from one composer to another. Understanding the Malambo The earliest reference to the malambo in the Rioplatense area dates back to the late eighteenth century. José Espinosa y Tello, a cartographer who traveled through the region with the Alejandro Malaspina expedition, offered a vivid description of the peasants of Montevideo—then part of the viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata: If it is Summer they go behind the hut and lie in the shade; if it is Winter they either play or sing some weird songs, out of tune, which they call de Cadena, the Perico, or Mal-Ambo, to the accompaniment of an out-of-tune little guitar that is always a tiple.57 This reference would seem to point to a song, rather than a dance, but the two other types of seguidillas mentioned are also dance types. Perico, or Pericón, is one of various Rioplatense adaptations of the French contredanse, whereas the cadena is one of its figures, probably related to the French grand chaîne.58 A few decades later, in the late 1830s, we find references to the malambo as a solo dance, performed as entertainment in the circus, with a touch of acrobatics, and already identified as a peasant dance: “The child Gervasio will dance on the tightrope [maroma] the malambo, with an egg on the sole of each foot,”59 and “Gervacio Masías … will dance a malambo representing the character of a peasant, wearing spurs and traditional costume.”60 Toward the end of the nineteenth century the malambo is mentioned in literary sources as part of the urban imagination of the gaucho. Predictably, there are references in the gauchesca literature—a literary genre that uses the oral register of the gaucho and depicts rural life and customs in a sometimes idealized, romanticized way—but we also find mentions in essays and other forms of nonfiction, including the first attempts at describing the dance and notating its music. References to the characteristic dance moves zapateo and escobillado, foot stomping and brushing, appear in Hilario Ascasubi’s 1872 Santos Vega. The character has glimpsed a woman’s lower legs as she mounted his horse and exclaims: “Oh, feet! For a malambo / with me, / I have not completely forgotten [how to dance] / What do you say, mistress? / Will you do an escobillado for me?”61 Later on, another character complains: “And my story … For Devil’s sake! / You won’t let me finish it / to take a zapatiado?”62 The escobillado appears again in Eduardo Gutiérrez’s Juan Moreira of 1888, always alluded to with the related word cepillado, or brushing, and often connected with guitar strumming rather than singing: “Moreira had got hold of the guitar and started to sing some hueyas, and ended by strumming the dandiest malambo, which most of the people present danced [cepillaron].”63 In 1882, composer Arturo Berutti published a series of six articles on Argentine vernacular dances in the periodical Mefistófeles, under the title “Aires nacionales.” He dealt with the malambo in the sixth article, which apparently was never published, although the text has survived among his papers.64 Berutti offers what is probably the most detailed description of the choreography of the malambo that has come down to us. He describes the dancers’ poise, “haughty and proud as if disparaging the occasion”; the guitarist’s accompaniment, “continuous and monotonous plucking alternating with strumming in the same beat and air which [he] repeats incessantly … until the end of the dance without making the least variation with that characteristic unending 6/8, of lively air”; followed by a thorough and vivid account of the different steps performed for the different figures, or mudanzas.65 Ventura Lynch’s much quoted testimony deserves special mention since—as we saw—it was known to Ginastera and is mentioned in Chase’s article. Besides a detailed description of a performance, Lynch provides the first written version of malambo music that has come down to us. The dance as he describes it has neither lyrics nor a recognizable melody: “The guitars inundate the hut with harmonies.” Dancers alternate, sometimes for hours. Lynch also offers a vivid depiction of the different steps, including zapateado and escobillado: “the dancers who brush, stomp, tap, now arching, inclining, twisting, and crossing their feet, whose sole barely touches the ground.”66 His transcription of the music consists of two guitar strumming patterns. The first, more extended, is a seven-measure alternation of dominant and tonic chords, while the second presents a subdominant–dominant–tonic pattern.67 Both excerpts have very little melodic definition, their upper voice barely outlining a descending major second. The second excerpt is familiar to today’s audiences, closely resembling the pattern associated with the malambo variant known as surero or sureño, that is, from the South.68 Lynch did not use this term, since it is a twentieth-century invention derived from the need to differentiate this Pampean malambo from the one from the North, which—as will be discussed below—was only introduced to Buenos Aires audiences in the 1920s (ex. 1). Example 1. View largeDownload slide Ventura Lynch’s transcriptions of malambo patterns. Example 1. View largeDownload slide Ventura Lynch’s transcriptions of malambo patterns. From the late nineteenth century onward, references to the malambo tend to focus on its otherness and archaism, portraying it as a gaucho relic from past times. Thus, in a report of the Carnival festivities of 1899, it is mentioned as “the difficult malambo” and is listed among other national dances of “nostalgic memory” such as the gato, prado, huella, pericón, and llanto.69 Similar lists of equally nostalgic tone can be found in writings by Joaquín V. González, Martiniano Leguizamón, and Leopoldo Lugones.70 This reminiscent tone can be connected to the modernist nostalgia that is a prominent feature of Argentine cultural nationalism, the epicenter of which was the rapidly modernizing city of Buenos Aires.71 The competitive nature of the malambo also had great appeal to the nationalist intelligentsia and fueled their romanticized view of gaucho life and culture. Lugones, for instance, emphasizes this aspect of the dance, which he likens—together with the traditional song contests known as payadas—to Damoetas’s challenge to Menalcas in Virgil’s third Bucolics: “There were also dance tournaments, the famous malambos, in which two men improvized choreographic figures that they should never repeat, lest they lose the round.”72 The choreographic figures referred to by Lugones are called mudanzas. Each mudanza is centered around one cycle of steps whose length is usually equivalent to eight bars of notated music.73Mudanzas become progressively more challenging as the dance progresses; when performed in competition, each malambista seeks to outdo his opponent by performing increasingly complex steps. The first traces of a revival of the malambo in the city of Buenos Aires date back to 1916, in the context of the circo criollo, a locally developed form of circus that toward the 1880s incorporated pantomimes of popular gaucho stories to great acclaim.74 From the beginning, these pantomimes included music numbers, a tradition that continued when they eventually developed into spoken theater. A presentation of Santos Vega in 1916 included various vernacular songs and dances, and “the malambo danced by the acclaimed and unrivaled malambistas José Donato Britten and José Plagaro.”75 A landmark in the history of the urban perception of the malambo is the performance by the dance troupe of Andrés Chazarreta in 1921. Chazarreta was a musician and schoolteacher from the northern province of Santiago del Estero who, in the early years of the twentieth century, started collecting and publishing arrangements of vernacular music of this region.76 He assembled a troupe of musicians and dancers, and in 1911 put together a theater performance of vernacular songs and dances that he presented in the provinces.77 Even though success was not immediate, Chazarreta persevered and, in 1921, presented his Compañía de Arte Nativo at the Politeama Theatre in Buenos Aires. The performance was an immediate success and received acclaim in the press. One of the most celebrated numbers was the malambo, performed by three dancers: Nicolás Juárez, Pedro Giménez, and Enrique Suárez.78 They were described as “extraordinary virtuosos” and compared with Russian dancers such as Neimanoff and Jakovleff.79 Buenos Aires had seen the Ballets Russes in 1913 and 1917; it seems reviewers perceived in the repertoire presented by Chazarreta the potential for a comparable Argentine art music elaboration. This view is best expressed by Ricardo Rojas, the famous writer and advocate of cultural nationalism, who attended the performance: Of the three dancers, I was impressed by the first one’s winged elegance, the other by his vigorous skill, the last one by his mocking mischief…. The audience applauded with justified enthusiasm, and the most intelligent among them could not help but notice the analogy with some popular Russian dances or the aesthetic possibilities of the malambo as theatrical spectacle, when the day comes in which this virgin folk matter [will] be exalted by our artists.80 The malambo performed by Chazarreta’s Compañía is comparatively easier to reconstruct, as a number of sources have preserved different aspects of the performance. Two of the dancers, Giménez and Suárez, were featured dancing the malambo in a 1929 film titled Mosaico Criollo (Creole Mosaic), directed by Eleuterio Irribarren. The film used a sound-on-disc technology that accompanied the projection of the film.81 The two dancers, dressed in traditional peasant attire, alternate in their virtuosic mudanzas, accompanied by two guitarists who continuously strum a IV–V–I pattern in D major. Due to the instrument’s chord-voicing idiosyncrasies, the same pattern played in G major produces a much more compelling upper line outlining the sixth, seventh, and eight degrees of the scale. This configuration appears to have been particularly favored and eventually became the norm: a spondaic–trochaic–tribrach foot (— — – ˘  ˘ ˘ ˘) over a subdominant–dominant–tonic harmony, with an upper voice outlining the submediant, leading tone, and tonic, as can be seen in example 2b, mm 23–24. Early cinema was one of the key channels through which this ur-malambo motive was disseminated.82 Scenes of malambo dancing can be found, for example, in Carlos Gardel’s Las luces de Buenos Aires (1931), Cuesta abajo (1934), and El día que me quieras (1935).83 All feature this normalized pattern, which is—perhaps not surprisingly—the one used by Ginastera in his Malambo, Op. 7. While the malambo entered the written record with Lynch’s transcription in 1883, its music was not printed commercially until much later. Unlike other vernacular music genres, such as vidalita, huella, triste, milonga, gato, and cielito, we do not find salon versions of the malambo in the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries. The earliest sheet music appears to be the version included by Chazarreta in his album Sexto álbum de música nativa of 1935.84 While a full examination of Chazarreta’s version of the malambo exceeds the scope of this article, it is relevant to note that his score differs from all other known versions of the malambo, even the one by his own troupe preserved in the 1929 film. It features a triadic melody of ascending–descending profile that brings to mind gestures found in dances such as chacarera, escondido, and gato. The reasons behind this addition may be related to the low melodic interest of malambo music. It is not hard to imagine that thirty-two measures of strummed IV–V–I chords would not have made a sheet music bestseller. The ur-malambo motive is barely hinted at in this edition, but it appears interpolated between repeats in the recorded version of 1945.85Examples 2a and 2b show a comparison of both versions. Example 2a. View largeDownload slide Andrés Chazarreta, malambo accompaniment pattern, as performed in Mosaico criollo. Example 2a. View largeDownload slide Andrés Chazarreta, malambo accompaniment pattern, as performed in Mosaico criollo. Example 2b. View largeDownload slide Andrés Chazarreta, El Malambo: Contrapunto de mudanzas o zapateo, comparing the published sheet music (top) with his recording (bottom). Note the extra eight measures in the latter, featuring the ur-malambo motive (measure 21ff). Example 2b. View largeDownload slide Andrés Chazarreta, El Malambo: Contrapunto de mudanzas o zapateo, comparing the published sheet music (top) with his recording (bottom). Note the extra eight measures in the latter, featuring the ur-malambo motive (measure 21ff). Art music composers do not seem to have been attracted to the music of the malambo before Ginastera. Only two precedents can be found, set by Alberto Williams and Juan Bautista Massa respectively. It is important, however, to differentiate between the use of the label and the actual musical topic since, as Kofi Agawu points out, congruency between title and content cannot be taken for granted.86 Alberto Williams called the third movement of his Primera sonata argentina for piano (1917) “Malambo,” but the reference to the dance does not extend beyond the name of the movement, which is otherwise a scherzo in the European tradition. The subtitle (in French) “Danse des indiens,” clearly inaccurate, suggests a deliberate attempt at self-exoticizing.87 Similarly, Juan Bautista Massa’s “Malambo,” from the ballet El cometa, which premiered at the Teatro Colón in 1932, bears little resemblance to the music of the dance. Unlike Williams’s “Malambo,” Massa’s exhibits at least some connection to vernacular music, specifically the gato, through a phrase structure that allows scansion of seguidilla verses. The comparative disinterest in the malambo by the early generation of Argentine nationalist composers may have been related to a perceived lack of musical potential.88 All vernacular genres topicalized in Argentine nationalist music thus far had featured distinctive melodic profiles or gestures (triste), characteristic rhythmic patterns (milonga), or highly idiosyncratic harmonic progressions (huella). This perception of the malambo can be seen in the review of the Buenos Aires premiere of Ginastera’s Malambo, Op. 7, in 1942.89 The critic of the influential newspaper La Nación stated: The malambo is certainly not one of our national dances that best lend themselves to artistic elaboration. Hence the merit of Alberto E. Ginastera, who has been able to give it an accomplished treatment and development, making this a piece that our pianists should not ignore.90 While the malambo had not been topicalized before Ginastera, musical figures alluding to zapateo or foot stomping can be found in works by Julián Aguirre, Carlos López Buchardo, and Gilardo Gilardi.91 These figures do not point to the virtuosic and assertive type of foot stomping of the malambo but rather a milder, less competitive style found in some of the vernacular dances that mimic courtship, such as gato, escondido, chacarera, and triunfo. This type of foot stomping occurs at a flirting moment during the dance, when the man executes a basic zapateo step, or light variations thereof,92 while the woman performs a swaying step, the zarandeo, coquettishly twirling her skirts. This zapateo topic, as we shall see, was also used by Ginastera in his works—and has been confused with the malambo. Ginastera’s Malambos Ginastera explicitly identified only two works as malambo; both feature the normalized malambo figure described above. But the genealogy of the malambo topic in his oeuvre starts earlier, with his 1935 Concierto argentino for piano and orchestra—written when the composer was only nineteen and later withdrawn from his catalogue.93 As befits its title, the Concierto argentino is full of topical references to Argentine vernacular music, some of which recur, though further elaborated, throughout his work: besides malambo, chacarera, zamba, triste, gato, huella, and vidalita. In most cases—but not all—these references are relatively straightforward and can be easily recognized in the Concierto argentino. The third movement, “Allegro rustico,” opens with a chromatically inflected moto perpetuo in quavers in 6/8 meter. The motive starts on the second quaver, resulting in a sense of displacement. Obsessive repetition, chromaticism, and dissonant harmony lend the passage its ominous undertones, linking it to the European topic of the ombra.94 This is followed by an ironic gato topic—indicated “cantando con picardía” or “singing with mischief.” Initially stated by the woodwinds and then by the brass, the gato theme alternates with the piano’s moto perpetuo (starting six measures before rehearsal number 50). After a suitable buildup, piano and orchestra eventually merge in a brilliant literal statement of the ur-malambo pattern (rehearsal number 54) (ex. 3). Example 3. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Concierto argentino for piano and orchestra, third movement, mm. 54–57. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 3. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Concierto argentino for piano and orchestra, third movement, mm. 54–57. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The association established here among these elements, the ominous motive, the gato, and the malambo, reappears in later works and has probably contributed to the slippage of identity among them found in the literature. Consequential among these is the “Danza del gaucho matrero,” from Tres danzas argentinas, Op. 2 (1937), undoubtedly one of the composer’s most performed works. The piece opens with a moto perpetuo in quavers in 6/8 featuring a descending chromatic ostinato, emphasized through repetition (mm. 1–16). Beginning on the anacrusis, this opening motive, like that of the third movement of Concierto argentino, is also metrically displaced (ex. 4). Example 4. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” mm. 1–7. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 4. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” mm. 1–7. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The gato topic is anticipated in mm. 16–20 and will emerge fully later on. After the proceedings are repeated, the restatement of this passage builds up expectations, culminating in an upward glissando that heralds the presentation of the gato topic (mm. 58ff).95 This glissando should not be dismissed as a mere flourish, since it appears in connection with the gato topic in other works by Ginastera. One of the dances mimicking courtship that Carlos Vega classified as “danzas apicaradas,” the gato is a lively dance. Consequently, as a topic in art music it evokes the positive affects associated with the light-hearted joys of courtship. The music of the gato is characterized by a distinctive phrasing, imposed by the structure of its text. In the poetic form known as seguidilla, it alternates seven- and five-syllable lines, such as “El gato de mi casa / es diferente / Adentro de la boca / tiene los dientes” (ex. 5).96 As Isabel Aretz noted, accommodating a syllabic seven-five pattern over the eight-measure phrases in 6/8 required by the gato choreography results in some idiosyncratic phrasing: the sounds corresponding to the seven-syllable line are either “anticipated” through an anacrusis or compressed together, whereas those of the five-syllable line are stretched.97 Example 5. View largeDownload slide Gato metric foot. Example 5. View largeDownload slide Gato metric foot. The topic of the gato in art music is distinguished first by a melodic motive that accommodates scansion of the seven/five-syllable verse structure; secondary properties include arpeggiated accompaniment patterns in 6/8 and an overall euphoric affect.98 In fact, the motive used by Ginastera in the “Danza del gaucho matrero” bears a strong resemblance to two very popular gato melodies. The first has been documented since 1896, when it was published in an arrangement by Antonio Podestá.99 According to Carlos Vega, this “Gato” was the one performed in the early presentations of Juan Moreira in the Podestá circus and was also sung in the sainetes “Julián Giménez” and Ituzaingó.100 If that were the case, this melody would date back to at least 1884. The second melody was popularized in the 1910s by Carlos Gardel, as “El sol del 25,” subtitled as a “patriotic gato”—the 25 refers to May 25, the day of the independence revolution of 1810. Although traditionally attributed to Gardel, it is possible that the melody had been adapted from a popular gato motive, as it was incorporated into other works, including Augusto Berto’s tango “La payanca,” the epigraph of which reads “based on popular motives,” and in “Con los ojos del alma,” another gato recorded by Gardel in 1921.101 Be that as it may, its enduring popularity in Argentine imagination is undoubtedly linked to Gardel. He recorded “El sol del 25” in 1917 and it became one of his most famous hits, being recorded again in 1930. The melodies of Podestá’s “Gato” and “El sol del 25” are related and could be regarded as belonging to the same melodic family. Both operate within the limits of a minor third, beginning on the fifth and ending on the third degree of the scale. The initial note is emphasized by repetition and ornamentation, pivoting between its neighboring tones. Another element that underlies both versions is the oscillation between the fifth and the chromatically raised fourth degrees of the scale, followed by a downward turn to the natural fourth degree. In “El sol del 25,” the fifth degree pivots first with the upper auxiliary note, whereas in Podesta’s “Gato” it alternates with the chromatically inflected fourth degree of the scale. Ginastera’s motive for the gato passage in “Danza del gaucho matrero” clearly partakes of this family, presenting elements of both melodies: the outward limits, the pivoting motion, the turns to the fourth degree of the scale, now raised, now diatonic, and the use of the upper neighboring tone. Ginastera departs from the vernacular pattern in the second part of the melody, with an upward leap of a sixth, compensated by a descent by thirds (mm. 58–61). A comparison of the three melodies is offered in Example 6. Example 6. View largeDownload slide Antonio Podestá, “Gato”; Gardel and Razzano, “El sol del 25”; and Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” gato topic, mm. 58–61. Ginastera: © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 6. View largeDownload slide Antonio Podestá, “Gato”; Gardel and Razzano, “El sol del 25”; and Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” gato topic, mm. 58–61. Ginastera: © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The actual reference to the malambo begins in measure 103 (see ex. 7). The allusion is less literal than the reference in Concierto argentino and provides a clear example of the process by which Ginastera became progressively more sophisticated in his handling of vernacular sources. Changes are subtle but effective, while still making the topic recognizable: two spondee instead of one, followed by the characteristic trochee-tribrach pattern (measure 105). The section that follows is organized in eight-measure units, reminiscent of the mudanzas in malambo. After two cycles (mm. 105–20), a sudden change of key from C to A-flat in measure 121 increases tension, suggesting the beginning of a more daring mudanza. Example 7. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” mm. 103–5. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 7. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Danza del gaucho matrero,” mm. 103–5. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The idea of increasingly difficult mudanzas is best elaborated in Ginastera’s Malambo for solo piano, Op. 7 (1940). The work develops from a two-measure unit (mm. 2–4) based on the characteristic opening gesture of the malambo (ex. 8); this unit is stated four times, constituting an eight-measure phrase (4 + 4) that is, in turn, repeated twenty times.102 Each repetition increases in textural density and dynamics, and moves higher in register. Thus, the initial single line reminiscent of a guitar bordoneo is first underlined by thirds, next by triad chords, then four-, five- and, finally, six-note chords. The progressive thickening of the texture and expansion of register is coupled with an increased rhythmic variety—note for instance the acephalous iambic patterns in mm. 46–47, 94–96, and the syncopations between mm. 106–7 and 108–9, which produce a 3–3–2 grouping—all of which convey the kinesthetic unfolding of the dance. Example 8. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Malambo, Op. 7, mm. 2–9. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 8. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Malambo, Op. 7, mm. 2–9. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The last scene of the ballet Estancia, Op. 8, titled “Danza final (Malambo),” is possibly the best known and yet least understood of all Ginasterian malambos. The scene is divided into two sections, clearly signaled by a double line. The second section, beginning at measure 124, bears the indication “Tempo di malambo” and features all the malambo characteristics we have seen before: the suggestion of the IV–V–I harmonic pattern, presented in a moto perpetuo in quavers with an ascending pattern in thirds; the organization in an eight-measure unit which, in the spirit of mudanzas, is repeated fifteen times with additions and minor variations; the spondee foot, stated six times, first appearing in measure 140; and the increasing complexity. The first section, on the other hand, is based on the music of an earlier scene, titled “Pequeña danza.” The topical reference in this “little dance”—clearly not a malambo—could potentially point to any vernacular couple dance. Close examination, however, reveals some clues: the arpeggiated figuration of the introduction (mm. 1–16),103 the euphoric affect, and the buildup culminating in a glissando (measure 17) are all features used by Ginastera in connection with the gato in other works, such as the Concierto argentino, the “Danza del gaucho matrero” and his own “Gato” in Cinco canciones populares argentinas (ex. 9).104 Why should this matter? Because distinguishing between these two topics has further implications for topical identification. Quite simply, if we mistake a gato for a malambo, we risk finding malambos all over the place. Example 9. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Gato,” from Cinco canciones populares argentinas, mm. 18–25. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 9. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “Gato,” from Cinco canciones populares argentinas, mm. 18–25. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. One of the most explicit statements of the malambo topic can be found in Obertura para el Fausto Criollo, an orchestral piece based on Estanislao del Campo’s Fausto: Impresiones del gaucho Anastasio el Pollo en la representación de la ópera (1866). In this poem, a landmark of gauchesca literature, a gaucho narrates his impressions of a performance of Gounod’s Faust at the Teatro Colón. An analysis of Ginastera’s work and its interactions with Estanislao del Campo’s iconic poem would merit a full study. For the purposes of the present discussion, two elements are worth highlighting: Anastasio’s voice is in the gaucho register, i.e., he speaks in the idiolect created by gauchesca literature, and he believes everything he sees in the opera to be real. A parody at many levels—of opera but also of the gaucho genre—Fausto has also been interpreted as a precursor of the postmodern pastiche. In that regard, it relies heavily on literary topoi.105 Not surprisingly, Ginastera’s Obertura operates within the same tradition and makes substantial use of both European and vernacular musical topics. Notable among the former is the ombra, through the quotation and manipulation of the opening chords and chromatic motive of the Introduction to Gounod’s opera. This dark opening is contrasted with the exuberant appearance of the gaucho voice (measure 32), represented initially by a generic dance rhythm—with minor gestures toward huella and chacarera—eventually leading to a clear reference to the malambo. This passage exhibits the characteristic chords in spondee foot, followed by the trochaic-tribrach pattern in the accompaniment (mm. 53–60); as in Estancia, we also find a moto perpetuo in quavers with an ascending pattern in thirds, which suggests the IV–V–I progression (measure 61ff) and the organization in eight-measure units.106 Ginastera’s idea of the malambo was clearly much more accurate and specific than the literature leads us to believe. This is perhaps best illustrated by his use of the malambo in film music. His score for Caballito criollo (1953), for example, includes the music of the malambo in several scenes—often associated with the idealized characteristics of the Argentine peasant: courage, disinterest in financial profit, idealism; it accompanies rescue scenes—in which the abused native horses (the caballitos criollos referred to in the title) are rescued by the main character—and images of horses galloping freely in the Pampean landscape.107 His sketch, indicated “Tiempo de malambo,” opens with the typical IV–V–I cadence in spondee foot, which he asks to be repeated four times, “4 veces.”108 As we have seen, in the early works Ginastera used the malambo in conjunction with a number of other topics, both vernacular and European. It is very rare to find cases of “fully worked out pieces,” to use Ratner’s words.109 Even Malambo, Op. 7, for solo piano, a work mainly about the malambo, includes a reference to the guitar topic in its one-measure introduction.110 As the composer became more distanced from the nationalist aesthetics of his early years, his treatment of vernacular topics became more complex, fragmented, and elusive. As in the early works, we find multiple topical allusions within movements, but they tend to be less direct—though still recognizable. This is the case of two other examples that could be interpreted as references to the malambo: the fourth movement of Piano Sonata No. 1, “Ruvido ed ostinato,” and the fourth movement of String Quartet No. 1, “Allegramente rustico,” both of which feature the characteristic sequence of chords in spondee foot. As the tempo indication suggests, the “Ruvido ed ostinato” is marked by ostinato patterns and repetitive rhythms suggesting rustic dances. Mostly, these patterns and rhythms are too generic to allow a topical interpretation, with the exception of the three chords in spondee foot at mm. 35–36 that suggest the malambo and the figure in mm. 62–65 that points toward the pala pala (ex. 10). In the String Quartet, the malambo statement appears toward the end of the opening section (mm. 38–43) and stands in contrast to the delicate theme of the next section, based on the topic of the bailecito. The malambo idea reappears toward the end of the movement (mm. 214–18), leading it to its forceful finale (ex. 11). The explicit, unequivocal malambo reference, as we have seen, appears combined or in close proximity to both vernacular and European topics, as well as gestures idiosyncratic to the composer.111 Thus, among others, we find patterns pertaining to vernacular topics such as gato, chacarera, bailecito, pala pala, and huella; a generic zapateo pattern; two moto perpetuo figures in quavers—one furnished with a hemiola and one without; and various gestures that convey “ominous” affects. Some of these are repeated obsessively, often culminating in a climax.112 These figures are entangled in the literature on Ginastera and often mistaken for the malambo itself. Example 10. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 1, fourth movement, mm. 32–36. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 10. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 1, fourth movement, mm. 32–36. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 11. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, String Quartet No. 1, fourth movement, mm. 38–43. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 11. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, String Quartet No. 1, fourth movement, mm. 38–43. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Disentangling the Malambo Gato Included in Carballo’s list of “extroverted malambos,” the “Gato” from Cinco canciones populares argentinas illustrates an instance in which the topical expectations raised by the title do match topical content: this piece is, indeed, based on the gato topic. Ginastera, like other Argentine composers, uses the gato as an equivalent to the European topic of the brilliant style. As we saw in the cases of the Concierto argentino and the “Danza del gaucho matrero”, his gato references appear after a characteristic buildup with iamb and trochee feet crowned by a dramatic glissando—either descending or ascending—that leads to the statement of the dance’s melody. The piano introduction to this “Gato” also features the typical arpeggiated figures of gato accompaniments, mentioned above in connection with Estancia, while the melody easily accommodates the seven- and five-line (seguidilla) structure of the text. The fast tempo and loud dynamics emphasize the euphoric, flirting, and at times humorous affect of the text: “That girl who dances / I like her very much / But not for a sister / Sister I already have.” Identified as a Ginasterian malambo by some authors,113 “Danza criolla,” the third number of Doce preludios americanos, Op. 12, features three salient topical elements. The first is a pounding rhythm of nearly percussive quality that does not point conclusively toward any specific Argentine vernacular dance. Rather, its chords in close position allude to a generic guitar rasguido that could potentially accompany any vernacular dance.114 The second is an arpeggiated figuration over a hemiola pattern that can be easily connected to the traditional gato introductions, as we saw in Estancia. Both elements point to vernacular instrumental introductions and interludes. The third element, on the other hand, with its more defined melodic profile, texture in parallel thirds, and regular structure, is reminiscent of couple dances, although the phrasing does not quite match; the downward glissando and the proximity to the introductory pattern suggests a closer relationship with gato than with any other dance.115 According to Mary Ann Hanley, Ginastera used the word malambo in connection with the fifth movement of his Suite de danzas criollas (1946), which he described to her as a “sort of sublimated malambo, like a folklore dream.”116 Ginastera’s remark has misled scholars who, eager to abide by the composer’s dictum, have since striven to find a malambo in this work, thus projecting the characteristics of its most explicit topics onto the identity of the malambo. Rather than the familiar malambo sequence, however, the work features elements from other vernacular dances that the composer may have seen as connected. The first section is dominated by hemiola rhythms and repeated chords; these create a buildup that leads to the appearance of a theme of greater melodic definition. Despite its instrumental texture and disjunct lines, the listener can perceive a vernacular melody that initially brings to mind the characteristic opening of the pala pala (ex. 12). Example 12. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Suite de danzas criollas, No. 5, mm. 14–15, with the main melody highlighted with larger note heads. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 12. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Suite de danzas criollas, No. 5, mm. 14–15, with the main melody highlighted with larger note heads. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. From measure 32 onward we encounter a familiar figure: a series of chords in an iamb-trochee pattern—intensified by repetition and the requested crescendo molto—that climaxes in an upward glissando followed by a restatement of the vernacular melody. This figure, as we saw, appears in connection with the gato in earlier works, such as the Concierto argentino and the “Danza del gaucho matrero,” among others. After the glissando we find the previous melody restated an octave higher, which in retrospect we come to interpret as an allusion to the gato. The listener’s initial association with the pala pala is not surprising. Both the pala pala and the gato feature a seven-syllable first line but pala palas always begin on a strong beat—as this melody does—whereas gatos tend to be anacrusic. Ginastera, however, did use downbeat-beginning gatos, most notably in his “Gato” from Cinco canciones argentinas. This is one instance in which topical identification is, indeed, aided by the force of context. Considering Ginastera’s familiarity with Argentine vernacular music, it is unlikely that he had meant this pala pala/gato reference to point to a malambo, sublimated or otherwise. Should we insist on searching for malambo elements, we may need to look in less thematically prominent places. The only likely candidates are the hemiolic rhythm in mm. 5–8 and the three chords in measure 22. These are not conclusive elements, however: the three chords do not quite match a malambo pattern and, as mentioned before, hemiolic rhythms belong in many Argentine vernacular dances. This situation confronts us with the limits of topical abstraction and makes us consider how much weight to allocate to the composer’s alleged declarations. Should we regard it as part of the contextual forces, and give it the casting vote to settle this topical identification? Before we do so, it may be worth reviewing some facts. Mary Ann Hanley interviewed Ginastera in 1968, twenty-two years after the composition of the work. By then, he was actively distancing himself from the image of the “South American composer” and probably was not keen on spelling out his vernacular references.117 Given the currency that the term malambo and the concept of “sublimation” had already gained in connection with his work within North American circles, it would not be surprising that he used it as a generic term to communicate with an English-speaking graduate student. Pala Pala References to the pala pala have also been mistaken for malambos. This traditional dance and song from northwestern Argentina is characterized by a recognizable pattern that allows scansion of the opening lines: “Pala pala pulpero” (ex. 13). Its history is unclear. Since its lyrics include Quichua words, some authors have advanced the hypothesis of an aboriginal origin.118 Example 13. View largeDownload slide Pala pala metric foot. Example 13. View largeDownload slide Pala pala metric foot. Unlike gato and malambo, there is no zapateo in the pala pala. Its choreography, especially the one disseminated through folk revivals in the urban milieu, is supposed to mimic the movements of a crow chasing a dove, which it eventually captures and disembowels.119 While there is no assertive foot-stomping here, the topic is not lacking in ominous overtones. Ginastera was clearly well acquainted with the pala pala; he even wrote a three-part pala pala for choir, in which the vernacular melody is treated as a three-part canon (ex. 14).120 Subtler topical references to the dance can be found throughout his oeuvre which seems to suggest that the composer used the pala pala with a comparable generative power to that of malambo and gato. An unmistakable reference appears in the first movement of Piano Sonata No. 2 (1981).121 This complex movement is in dialogue with the first movement of Piano Sonata No. 1; its topical references allude mostly to the northern imagination, a fact reinforced by the composer’s indications “come una cassa india” (measure 65) and “come kenas” (measure 71), alluding to two musical instruments sanctioned by the folk revival movements as iconic of the region.122 Example 14. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “North Argentinian Folk Dance,” canon on the pala pala. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 14. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, “North Argentinian Folk Dance,” canon on the pala pala. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The first theme, with its constant change of meter suggests and at the same time undermines the idea of the northern bailecito—a topic also elaborated in the first movement of Piano Sonata No. 1. This is, one could say, a “misbehaved” bailecito.123 There is more than a whiff of pentatonicism in the section indicated “lontano e soave come kenas,” which can also be connected to elements of the first sonata. After this section, a rhythmic ostinato derived from the “cassa india” motive gains momentum and leads to the clear statement of the pala pala topic (mm. 131–34; ex. 15). Less literal statements can be found in the last movement of the Piano Sonata No. 1 (mm. 62–65) and the first movement of the String Quartet No. 1 (ex. 16). Example 15. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 2, first movement, measure 131. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 15. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 2, first movement, measure 131. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 16. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, String Quartet No. 1, first movement, mm. 43–48. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 16. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, String Quartet No. 1, first movement, mm. 43–48. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Bailecito, Chacarera, Huella, and Carnavalito Also misconstrued as malambo are references to other vernacular songs and dances such as bailecito, huella, and carnavalito. Allusions to the northern bailecito appear in the “Danza” from Impresiones de la Puna, the fifth number of Suite de danzas criollas, the “Allegro” from Pampeana No. 2 for cello, and the “Allegro deciso” from Sonata for Cello and Piano.124 The “Allegro” section from Pampeana No. 1 for violin and piano combines elements of both bailecito (rehearsal number 4), and gato (from the anacrusis to rehearsal number 5). The opening section of “Criolla” from Tres piezas, Op. 6, resonates with the idea of the Pampean dance and song known as huella or hueya. This is evident in the suggestion of the acephalous beginning and the repeated chords in a closed position.125 Although further abstracted, the allusion to the huella is still recognizable through the combination of the acephalous theme (mm. 6ff), the suggestion of guitar strumming (mm. 72–78), and the pervasive hemiolic patterns (mm. 16–19). The carnavalito, a dance from the Argentine Northwest, was used by Ginastera in several works. Its characteristic dactylic pattern is interspersed in the third movement of Piano Sonata No. 2, titled “Ostinato aymará.” The identification of this movement with a malambo by some authors is surprising, given the presence of the duple meter and dactylic pattern, not to mention the composer’s statement in the preface: “a toccata whose fundamental rhythm derives from a dance called “karnavalito” [sic]. In Perpetuum Mobile As discussed earlier, the abstraction of topical references posits a challenge to the analyst. Topics appear in many guises. In some cases, they are presented in a straightforward, easily recognizable statement; in others their basic properties have been distilled so much that the reference is barely a knowing wink. As Kofi Agawu memorably put it, composers like to “play with signs.” The problem, however, is to define the limits of that play. How to disambiguate between a topic whose properties have been stripped away or manipulated beyond recognition and a figure so generic that it could be many topics, or even no topic at all? This is the case with some of the rhythmic patterns in perpetual motion, both with and without hemiolas, that are ubiquitous in Ginastera’s oeuvre. Examples include the trochaic-iambic pattern (˘ ˘ ˘ ˘ –) in “Los trabajadores agrícolas,” from Estancia (mm. 39–40), the memorable iambic pattern in the Impetuosamente from Pampeana No. 3, the moto perpetuo in quavers of the Finale from Piano Concerto No. 1 and the one in Prelude No. 7 “Para las octavas,” from Doce preludios americanos. While some may point to a generic zapateo rhythm, none of these patterns can be unequivocally associated with any specific vernacular dance or song, let alone a malambo. Are they topics? The answer would depend, of course, on the theoretical framework within which we decide to operate and would take more pages than we have at our disposal. Let us settle for a less ambitious goal. Should they happen to be topics, we know at least that malambos they are not. Ominous, Eerie, Mysterious Visionary and hallucinating elements, and a certain mysterious atmosphere, evoking perhaps South American lands… A series of recurring musical figures in Ginastera’s oeuvre convey the “visionary,” “hallucinating,” and “mysterious” atmospheres he refers to in the above quote.126 Some can be described as ominous and menacing, while others are better represented by words like eerie and otherworldly. As previously mentioned, one author has designated these as “introverted” malambos.127 The works in which these figures appear share some common traits: perpetual note figurations, twelve-tone, or at least high chromaticism, fast pace, and expressive indications such as allucinante, misterioso, magico, fantastico, sfuggevole, which—taken together—spell out a spectrum of meanings and outline the boundaries of an expressive domain. There is no malambo in sight. Rather, this domain clearly points to the world of topics such as ombra and uncanny, historically used to represent the ominous in music.128 The musical conventions of both ombra and uncanny—it has been pointed out—rely on the presence of a tonal framework to produce meaning.129 Most of Ginastera’s “mysterious atmosphere” passages are outside this framework. The representational tradition of the ominous, however, outlived tonality, and the progression of its musical signifiers beyond the tonal world has recently begun to be explored.130 Examining the so-called introverted malambos reveals subtle differences, which could potentially afford discrimination of further subsets within the group. Although this research is still in its early stages, one such subset is worth mentioning here. Characterized by a moto perpetuo that fuels the piece (as opposed to more punctuated rhythms), high chromaticism, free-flowing texture, and disjunct motion, its starting point can be traced back to the opening figure of the “Danza del gaucho matrero” (ex. 4 above).131 This figure is also found in the “Presto misterioso” from Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22 (ex. 17), the “Scherzo allucinante” from Piano Concerto No. 1, the “Scorrevole” from Piano Sonata No. 2, and some passages in the Scherzo from Sonata for Guitar, Op. 47. Example 17. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 1, “Presto misterioso,” mm. 1–8. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Example 17. View largeDownload slide Alberto Ginastera, Piano Sonata No. 1, “Presto misterioso,” mm. 1–8. © Copyright Boosey & Hawkes Music. Inc. Print rights administered in Australia and New Zealand by Hal Leonard Australia. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Mainstream Topics Inspecting the medley of so-called malambos with topical awareness uncovers the presence of other recurring gestures of non-vernacular ancestry. Breta Neel sees a reference to the malambo in “Fuga,” the last movement of the Duo for Flute and Oboe. Once more, the identification is based on 6/8-meter “continuous eighth notes,” and the occasional presence of hemiolas and syncopations. However, the “Fuga,” with its lively tempo, cheerful affect, long phrases, anacrusic beginning, lilting movement, and fugal treatment, is more reminiscent of the gigue type that Meredith Little and Natalie Jenne designated as “giga II” and brings to mind one of its most memorable occurrences: the last movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 5.132 The Mascherada (Act 1, scene 7) from the opera Bomarzo has also been connected to the malambo. On the occasion of the performance of the opera in Madrid’s Teatro Real in 2017, for instance, a critic mentioned the “saltarello which, in its jumping zeal, reaches the pampa and becomes nearly a malambo.”133 Similarly, on the occasion of the 2003 production at the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires, a reviewer mentioned that “the composer uses a Gregorian Dies Irae superimposed on a saltarello that is, in fact, a malambo.”134 These statements probably stem from a cursory reading of Estaban Buch’s monograph on Bomarzo, in which the author purports that the saltarello rhythm “can barely hide under its Italian name—to the public of the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires—its musical kinship with the malambo from Estancia, also in 6/8.”135 Needless to say, the Mascherada scene, like the Gagliarda that precedes it, in a Renaissance setting, alludes to sixteenth-century Italian dances. This is reinforced by the use of instruments traditionally associated with Italy, such as the mandolin (in the Gagliarda) and the tambourine (in the Mascherada); once more, the only claim to malambo-ness in this passage is the moto perpetuo in 6/8. Lastly, it is necessary to mention a group of strong “pounding” rhythms unrelated to malambos, gatos, or pala palas. Ginastera used these for the first time in the “Danza de los guerreros” in the ballet Panambí (1934–37). Essentialists would like to see this gesture as a precursor of the malambo rhythm, and indeed that connection has been drawn.136Panambí, however, is based on a guaraní legend and thus takes place in an Amerindian setting. Culturally, chronologically, and geographically, this is a completely different symbolic world. We have as much chance of encountering a malambo here as we do of finding a tango in a Handel oratorio. This figure does not allude to the malambo or to the gaucho world; rather, it may be part of a transnational “primitivist” topic (coined, of course, by Stravinsky) which can be found in “tribal” or “ritual” contexts in works ranging from the Brazilian Heitor Villa-Lobos to the Australian John Antill.137 Interpreting the Malambo Identifying a topic, whether to recognize it or to disprove a false attribution, requires an initial focus on its musical features. These acts of identification are underrated in the literature, although—as shown here—topics can be harder to detect than anticipated. Most scholars agree, however, that acts of identification are to be followed by acts of interpretation.138 Raymond Monelle, for instance, argues that for a topic to become an “interpretive strategy,” it is necessary to understand how it makes sense within a broader semantic world, “connected to aspects of contemporary society, literary themes, and older traditions.”139 To Kofi Agawu, on the other hand, interpretation “can be confined to meanings set in motion within a piece or include those that are made possible in intertextual space.”140 We can thus look at the malambo in general—and the Ginasterian malambo in particular—as a piece within the larger puzzle of Argentine culture. But we can also consider the topic in action and how it relates to the material that surrounds it, both within the confines of a specific work and through a dispersion of works. The malambo’s semantic associations were accrued over more than two centuries. The link with ideas of masculinity and virile prowess is a comparatively recent construct, closely related to the development of hegemonic constructions of Argentina’s national identity during the first decades of the twentieth century. Early perceptions of the malambo were linked to songs (seguidillas desentonadas) and, when references to the solo dance first appeared in the early nineteenth century, with skill and even acrobatics. Toward the end of the nineteenth century the malambo is firmly connected in the urban imagination to the quickly disappearing world of the gaucho, as part of the first nostalgic attempts to document it “before it vanishes.”141 It was only in the twentieth century that references to masculinity appeared. In 1924, Ricardo Rojas stated—in his famous Eurindia—that “the Argentine soul moves, palpitating with heroic dignity in the virile rhythms of the media caña and the malambo.”142 A sixth-grade reader from 1933, sanctioned by the Ministry of Education, describes Argentine vernacular dances as “the noble zamba, the intense vidala, the patriotic pericón” and “the virile malambo.”143 In 1943, Orestes di Lullo states that the malambo, “more than a dance, is a masculine tournament of dances, a counterpoint of mudanzas and zapateados, where the dancers’ attitudes oppose in the extreme push to win.”144 References to the virility of the malambo recur especially after the 1940s; for instance, in 1949, Avelino Herrero Mayor referred to it as the “malambo viril.”145 In a 1954 newsreel, Sucesos argentinos, an international tour of Santiago Ayala’s folk dance troupe is announced to the music of the malambo, whose “masculine robustness will reveal to the audiences of the world the very essence of the Argentine popular soul.”146 The competitive nature of the malambo allows it to stand for other forms of antagonism, such as fights between men; perhaps the connection with ominous affects stems from this association. There are no malambos in Alberto de Zavalía’s film Malambo (1942), for which Ginastera wrote the music. Malambo is the name of the main character, a young man who—instigated by his mother—seeks revenge for the wrongful death of his father and baby brother. The connection of the dance with negative affects is evinced in a dialogue between two peasants that appears early in the film: YOUNG MAN. And you said his name was Malambo? Malambo is a dance. OLD MAN. Precisely, and they call him thus for, because of him, the Virgin [Mary] and the Devil danced a counterpoint. YOUNG MAN. The Virgin dancing a zapateo counterpoint? With the Devil? I can’t believe it. OLD MAN. So it was. And Good and Evil were the mudanzas.147 The incorporation of the malambo into the topical universe of Argentine art music—to a certain extent, a Ginasterian invention—is consistent with the views outlined above and inaugurates a new stage in the symbolic representation of the gaucho. Up until then, the national character had been depicted mostly with nostalgia, either as a mournful individual affected by an “extraordinary sorrow,” or as a jolly peasant enjoying the simple pleasures of country life. Ginastera’s gauchos are a completely different matter. In his early malambo-related works the topic of the malambo appears in close vicinity to that of the gato (sometimes crowning its climax) and, unsurprisingly, the guitar; it is also related to the pala pala, ombra, and to a gesture that points to the musical representation of the ominous. The “Danza del gaucho matrero” illustrates a typical instance of these topical associations and allows us a glimpse into Ginastera’s topical play. The piece begins with the “ominous” motive, followed by a brief interjection of the gato topic; the passage is repeated, leading—by means of an arresting glissando—to an unequivocal statement of the gato (marked fortissimo); the idea is elaborated further and tension builds, culminating in the presentation of the malambo—indicated sfff and violento. Eventually the malambo dies off and the ominous motive is restated, leading to a return of the gato, this time an octave higher. The zapateado elements of the malambo are triumphantly restated, bringing the piece to its final climax, marked sfff and salvaggio. What is the role of the ominous motive and how does it relate to both gato and malambo? The composer supplemented the music with intra- and extra-musical paratexts: the dynamics (violento, salvaggio) and the title, which links the work to a specific representational tradition—the “bad” gaucho—and invites us to furnish the music with a narrative.148 Let us examine the meanings that are set in motion by the title. Martiniano Leguizamón, in his Recuerdos de la tierra of 1896, defines matrero as a “man who is in the outback, fleeing from justice.”149 The protagonist of this dance is, then, an outcast. Argentine imagination abounds in these figures: Martín Fierro, Juan Cuello, and Juan Moreira, among others.150 They are celebrated in the literature, entering art music in the late nineteenth century with Arturo Berutti’s opera Pampa (1897), based on the story of Juan Moreira. A precedent closer to Ginastera’s times is Felipe Boero’s opera El matrero, which had been performed nearly every year at the Teatro Colón since its premiere in 1929.151 Both Moreira and Pedro Cruz (the matrero), however, are defeated and at best looked upon with nostalgia for times past. We know that a narrative was perceived by audiences at the time of the first public performances of the “Danza del gaucho matrero.” For instance, Carlos Enrique Castelli, in his review of the premiere of Tres danzas argentinas, felt that the “Danza del gaucho matrero” was “a true poem, in which one can imagine the bad gaucho fleeing on his spirited horse until he finds a lair, the plucking of the guitar and the beginning of the dance in gato rhythm.”152 Such narratives are, of course, speculations; however, plots reflect our need to make sense of the stimuli set in motion by topics and their disposition.153 Let us indulge in such an exercise for a moment. The ominous motive conjures up the matrero and his menacing attributes; the gato topic clearly suggests a dance event, which he perhaps comes across and decides to join. At some point, a competition ensues—he may have spotted a “moza donosa” and decided to impress her with his skill, or perhaps he challenges another gaucho. This challenge could be literal or symbolic—one of those knife fights for which matreros were known to have a proclivity; the malambo section, after all, is indicated “violento.” The return to the opening motive reminds us of the dark side of the character and the brilliant salvaggio ending suggests his triumph. While this is an imagined interpretation, it highlights an important element: Ginastera, as previously mentioned, inaugurates a new musical representation of the gaucho. Unlike his predecessors, Ginastera’s matrero is not defeated; he is dangerous, violent, and “savage,” and in the end, he wins. From the “Danza del gaucho matrero” onward, Ginastera’s music emphasizes (one might even say fixates on) the virility of the gaucho, and thus becomes a piece in the broader puzzle of the construction of Argentine hegemonic masculinity.154 His gauchos are assertive and energetic; they are not remembered with nostalgia but rather admired for their masculine qualities. A troublesome component of this construction is, of course, violence. Ginastera’s spectra of associations around the malambo topic could perhaps be related to these two elements: the reassessment in the 1930s of the national male character—from defeated and dysphoric to forceful and assertive—and the prescience of his potentially dark side. Did He Really Mean It? Scholars working with the concept of musical topics sooner or later are asked about compositional intention. Did the composer consciously use those topics? Was he or she really aware of the distinctions between one and the other? The naïveté behind such questions is surprising considering the current awareness of the intentional fallacy, and the numerous studies about the elusive nature of composers’ intentions triggered by the historically informed performance movement.155 A proper discussion of this issue exceeds this article. Suffice it to say that this is not how musical topics (or any other forms of cultural schemata, for that matter) function. Although there is evidence of “topical awareness” in treatises and the writings of composers, there is also evidence of topical content not always matching a work’s title. In short, composers use topics, but are not always accurate in how they label them.156 Kofi Agawu, for instance, cites examples from Mozart’s correspondence.157 Mozart did not call these units “topics”; rather, he referred to “Turkish music,” “respectable piece of real three-part writing,” etc. Clearly, he was conscious of these conventions and their expressive connotations—humor for one, learnedness for the other. A similar awareness can be found in Ginastera’s writings. In a letter to Malena Kuss, he describes the finale of the Sonata for Cello and Piano and states: “The finale, which is actually the Coda, is a fiery piece in which here and there I use a Karnavalito rhythm. The effect is fantastic.”158 The program notes, prefaces, and other paratexts he wrote often mention his deliberate use of elements from vernacular genres. The preface to the Piano Sonata No. 2 is a clear example, in which he presents what amounts to an outline of Ginastera’s take on the topic of the “estilo noroéstico” or northwestern “style” (in the Ratnerian sense): pentatonic scales, sad melodies, joyful rhythms, “kenas,” “indian drums,” and melismatic, microtonal ornaments. When discussing the Sonata’s individual movements, he mentions specific genres like “Harawi” and “Karnavalito.” These references also show that Ginastera was conscious of his use of vernacular topics at different levels of abstraction. For example, in describing his Pampeana No. 2 for cello and piano he remarked, “Written as a rhapsody and without using folk material, it recalls the rhythms and the melodic figures of the music of the Argentine Pampas.”159 Without calling them topics, he makes a distinction between a literal quotation of vernacular material and “rhythms and melodic figures” that bring it to mind. This insistence on “not using folk material” and yet conveying an Argentine or South American atmosphere recurs throughout his writings and is related to a historiographical view, prevalent at the time, that equated the use of “folk materials” with nationalism.160 He called the musical gestures he created “folklore imaginaire.”161 We call them topics. Conclusion Don’t be surprised, Pola, if I send folklore to hell. One is sick of being pigeon-holed as a folklorist South-American. The term malambo, as we have seen, has been applied to almost every repetitive rhythm found in Ginastera’s works, whether relentless and pounding, or soft and swirling—with and without hemiola.162 The concept is so loose as to accommodate nearly anything. Analysis of the forty-six works listed in Table 1 shows that most of the so-called malambos are references to other topics: gato, pala pala, chacarera, huella, bailecito, carnavalito, generic zapateo, non-vernacular topics like gigue, saltarello, and the “primitivist” dance, as well as other Ginasterian gestures in moto perpetuo, including the provisionally-named “ominous” motive that might be the composer’s take on the ombra topic. Ginastera did use the malambo, and to great effect, but only in a handful of works. Why is this important? Are we perhaps splitting hairs? Accuracy in the identification of topical references is necessary first and foremost for the sake of intellectual rigor. In this context, it is not appropriate to take a culture-specific label and use it as a blanket term. Rather, an effort needs to be made to acquire the relevant literacy. A vernacular topic is much more than its musical signifier; a reference to a folksong or dance conjures up a whole network of cultural and expressive meanings. In terms of its expressive connotations—as well as its musical features—a bailecito is as close to a malambo as a minuet is to a gigue. Therefore, awareness of the subtle differences between topics is as important to our understanding of Ginastera’s expressive world as awareness of the difference between eighteenth-century dance topics is to our appreciation of the nuances of meaning in Mozart or Haydn. More interesting, perhaps, than differentiating topics is to observe how they relate to one another. Since Ginastera’s early works, as we have seen, the malambo is part of a constellation of topics—notably guitar, gato, pala pala, ombra, and the “ominous” gesture—that tend to appear together in later works. An exegesis of their conventional semantic associations, shaped by historical and cultural insight, reveals how these individual topics interact to create expressive meanings and are combined to create new expressive formations. In this regard, the dialogue afforded by topics opens up an avenue of research that could potentially enhance our understanding of the overarching relationships the composer created across his oeuvre.163 Listening to Ginastera’s “malambo collection” with topical awareness and cultural sensitivity reveals a more nuanced and complex expressive palette than has been thus far acknowledged. Labeling Ginastera’s repetitive, obsessive, or strong rhythms malambos perpetuates an essentialist view of the composer as a “folklorist South-American,” condemned to perpetual nationalism, and betrays the persistence of a neo-colonialist approach that fixates on Otherness as a defining feature for categorizing composers from the periphery. For the sake of both terminological accuracy and cultural sensitivity, then, let us resist the malambo. Appendix: List of works cited in Table 1 Basinski Mark Grover , “Alberto Ginastera’s Use of Argentine Folk Elements in the Sonata for Guitar, Op. 47” (DMA, University of Arizona , 1994 ). Buch Esteban , The Bomarzo Affair: Ópera, perversión y dictadura ( Buenos Aires : Hidalgo , 2003 ). Carballo Erick , “De la Pampa al cielo: The Development of Tonality in the Compositional Language of Alberto Ginastera” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 2006 ). Casey Rebecca L. , “Alberto Ginastera’s Stylistic Evolution: A Comparative Analysis—Pampeana No. 2: Rhapsody for Cello and Piano, Opus 21 (1950) and Sonata for Cello and Piano, Opus 49 (1979)” (DMA, University of Cincinnati , 1997 ). Chase Gilbert , “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” The Musical Quarterly 43 , no. 1 ( 1957 ): 439 – 60 . Google Scholar Crossref Search ADS Cobos Sergio de los , “Alberto Ginastera’s Three Piano Sonatas: A Reflection of the Composer and His Country” (DMA, Rice University , 1991 ). Green Rachel Kay , “Alberto Ginastera’s Harp Concerto, Op. 25: A Synthesis of Argentine Nationalism and Neo-Expressionism” (DMA, University of Arizona , 2017 ). King Charles W. , “Alberto Ginastera’s Sonata for Guitar, Op. 47: An Analysis” (DMA, University of Arizona , 1992 ). Knafo Claudia , “Tradition and Innovation: Balances within the Piano Sonatas of Alberto Ginastera” (DMA, Boston University , 1994 ). Kuss Malena , “Ginastera (1916–1983): La trayectoria de un método,” Revista Argentina de Musicología 14 ( 2013 ): 15 – 52 . Lee Miah , “Alberto Ginastera: An Examination of Objective Nationalism and the `Danzas Argentinas’” (M.Mus. thesis, University of Texas at El Paso, 2005 ). Neel Breta L. , “Three Flute Chamber Works by Alberto Ginastera: Intertwining Elements of Art and Folk Music” (DMA, University of Nebraska , Lincoln, 2017 ). Pironio Laura María , “Referentes nacionales en la música para piano de Alberto Ginastera escrita entre 1937 y 1947” (Musical Arts degree thesis, Instituto Universitario Nacional del Arte, 2013 ). Pittman Francis Davis , “A Performer’s Analytical Guide to Indigenous Dance Rhythms in the Solo Piano Works of Alberto Ginastera” (DMA, University of North Carolina at Greensboro , 2006 ). Plesch Melanie , “De mozas donozas y gauchos matreros: Música, género y nación en la obra temprana de Alberto Ginastera,” Huellas … Búsquedas en Artes y Diseño 2 ( 2002 ): 24 – 31 . Russell Bruce Lockard , “The Solo Piano Music of Alberto Ginastera (1916–1983): An Analysis Focused on the Compositional Devices, Style, and Performance of Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22” (M.Mus. thesis, California State University, Long Beach, 2003). Scarabino Guillermo , Alberto Ginastera: técnicas y estilo (1935–1950) (Buenos Aires: Facultad de Artes y Ciencias Musicales, Instituto de Investigación Musicológica “Carlos Vega,” 1996 ). Schwartz-Kates Deborah , “Ginastera, Alberto,” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online . ( Oxford University Press , 2014 ). <http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.ezp.lib.unimelb.edu.au/subscriber/article/grove/music/11159>. Schwartz-Kates Deborah , “The Gauchesco Tradition as a Source of National Identity in Argentine Art Music (ca. 1890–1955)” (PhD diss., University of Texas at Austin, 1997 ). Sottile Antonieta , “Le(s) style(s) d’Alberto Ginastera (1916–1983)” (PhD diss., Université de Montréal, 2006 ). Suárez Urtubey Pola , Alberto Ginastera ( Buenos Aires : Ediciones Culturales Argentinas , 1967 ). Suárez Urtubey Pola , Alberto Ginastera en cinco movimientos ( Buenos Aires : Victor Lerú ;, 1972 ). Wallace David Edward , “Alberto Ginastera: An Analysis of His Style and Techniques of Composition” (PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1968 ). Wylie Roy , “Argentine Folk Elements in the Solo Piano Works of Alberto Ginastera” (DMA, University of Texas at Austin , 1986 ). Melanie Plesch is an Associate Professor of Musicology at the University of Melbourne. Her work focuses on nineteenth- and twentieth-century Argentine art music and its intersections with vernacular and popular music, literature, and the visual arts. She has done extensive research on the construction of meaning in Argentine art music through a musicological practice that combines topic theory, cultural history, and ethnohistory. She is the author of the study and facsimile editions of early Argentine sources, such as the 1837 periodical Boletín Musical and Fernando Cruz Cordero’s 1844 treatise Discurso sobre música; coeditor, with Silvina Mansilla, of Nuevos estudios sobre música argentina, and editor of Analizar, interpretar, hacer música: De las Cantigas de Santa María a la organología. Escritos in memoriam Gerardo Huseby. The recipient of various international research grants, in 2015 she held a research visitorship at the University of Oxford as part of the Balzan Project “Towards a Global History of Music,” directed by Reinhard Strohm. Her research appears in prestigious journals such as Acta Musicologica, Patterns of Prejudice, and The Musical Quarterly, among others. She recently edited a dossier on topic theory and Latin American art music for the Portuguese Journal of Musicology. She is working on a long-term research project on musical topics in Argentine art music. This article develops an argument presented at the 82nd annual meeting of the American Musicological Society (Vancouver, 2016), in the context of the roundtable “Ginastera at 100: Politics, Ideology and Representation.” I am indebted to Deborah Schwartz-Kates, who invited me to be part of this session, for encouraging me to apply my ideas to the field of Ginasterian studies. Thanks are also due to the anonymous reviewer for many insightful comments and suggestions. I would like to acknowledge the help I received from many individuals while carrying out the research for this study: Malena Kuss, who generously shared with me her encyclopedic knowledge of Ginastera’s music; Rachel Horner, who copied the Chase-Ginastera correspondence at the New York Public Library for me; Ricardo Zavadivker, who located numerous hard-to-find items in Buenos Aires; Julius Reder Carlson and Dardo Molina Chazarreta for sharing documentation on Andrés Chazarreta; Hernán Vazquez, who called Juan Bautista Massa’s Malambo to my attention; Mauricio Femenía for providing a rare copy of the first edition of Malambo Op. 7; Emilio Portorrico and Silvina Mansilla, who shared their knowledge and expertise. Special thanks also to Hernán D. Ramallo for help with the musical examples and to David T. Agg for his careful reading of the final draft. Footnotes 1 Epigraph: Alberto Ginastera, interview with Paul Hume, ‘The Fireworks of Alberto Ginastera,” Washington Post, 29 January 1978, https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/1978/01/29/the-fireworks-of-alberto-ginastera/f967e5df-c18e-4454-aee0-f9e380f76182/. 2 Argentine ethnomusicology has traditionally differentiated between peasant music as found in its original milieu—usually anonymous and orally transmitted—and its urban cultivation, which is disseminated through the media and subject to copyright. In this article, I call the former “vernacular” and the latter “popular.” 3 Gilbert Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” The Musical Quarterly 43, no. 1 (1957): 439–60. 4 Gilbert Chase, “Remembering Alberto Ginastera,” Latin American Music Review 6, no. 1 (1985): 80; Carol A. Hess, Representing the Good Neighbor: Music, Difference, and the Pan American Dream (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 233n97. 5 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 450. 6 Ibid., 447. 7 Ibid., 454. 8 Gilbert Chase to Alberto Ginastera, 21 January 1957, Chase Papers Collection, New York Public Library, Music Division. 9 In this letter he tells Ginastera that he finally managed to get the score of Pampeana No.3 through Boosey & Hawkes. 10 The annotated draft is not among Chase’s papers. 11 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 447. 12 Alberto Ginastera to Gilbert Chase, 26 June 1957, 3, Chase Papers Collection, New York Public Library. 13 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 454n13. 14 Ibid., 455. My emphasis. This is taken verbatim from Carlos Vega’s statement of “seis unidades por compás.” Vega, “El Malambo,” in Las danzas populares argentinas, facsimile of the 1952 edition, vol. 1 (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1986), 69. 15 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 455. 16 Deborah Schwartz-Kates noted this discrepancy in her doctoral dissertation of 1997, “The Gauchesco Tradition as a Source of National Identity in Argentine Art Music (ca. 1890–1955)” (PhD diss., University of Texas at Austin, 1997), 871. 17 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 455. 18 Gilbert Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Portrait of an Argentine Composer,” Tempo 44 (1957): 11–17. 19 Chase, “Alberto Ginastera: Argentine Composer,” 14. 20 Sublimation N., Oxford English Dictionary Online (Oxford University Press), http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/192761, meaning 4. 21 Josefina Ludmer’s concept of “distancing” is relevant in this context. See The Gaucho Genre: A Treatise on the Motherland (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2002). 22 In describing works from his “third period” to Pola Suárez Urtubey, he stated: “There isn’t in any of them a single rhythmic or melodic cell from folk music.” Cited in Suárez Urtubey, Alberto Ginastera (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Culturales Argentinas, 1967), 72. 23 David Edward Wallace, “Alberto Ginastera: An Analysis of His Style and Techniques of Composition” (PhD diss., Northwestern University, 1968). 24 Wallace, “Alberto Ginastera: An Analysis,” 66, 89, 175, 212. 25 Ibid., 75. 26 Ibid., 35. 27 Ibid., 212, my emphasis. Earlier in the text there are mentions of “fast movements based on the malambo” (68). 28 Mary Ann Hanley, “The Compositions for Solo Piano by Alberto Ginastera (1916– )” (DMA diss., University of Cincinnati, 1969), 17. 29 Roy Wylie, “Argentine Folk Elements in the Solo Piano Works of Alberto Ginastera” (DMA diss., University of Texas at Austin, 1986), 114; Rachel Kay Green, “Alberto Ginastera’s Harp Concerto, Op. 25: A Synthesis of Argentine Nationalism and Neo-Expressionism” (DMA diss., University of Arizona, 2017), 19. 30 Francis Davis Pittman, “A Performer’s Analytical Guide to Indigenous Dance Rhythms in the Solo Piano Works of Alberto Ginastera” (DMA diss., University of North Carolina at Greensboro, 2006), 94, 114. 31 Schwartz-Kates, “The Gauchesco Tradition,” 869ff. 32 Ibid., 874. 33 Deborah Schwartz-Kates, “Ginastera, Alberto,” Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, 2014, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.ezp.lib.unimelb.edu.au/subscriber/article/grove/music/11159. 34 Gerard Béhague, Music in Latin America: An Introduction (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1979), 216–17. 35 Erick Carballo, “De la Pampa al cielo: The Development of Tonality in the Compositional Language of Alberto Ginastera” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 2006), 69. 36 Ibid., 76. 37 By this I refer to both the vernacular dance and the so-called malambo movements described in previous scholarship. 38 Carballo, “De la Pampa al cielo,” 72. 39 Ibid., 72–73. 40 Ibid., 262. 41 “Danza Final (Malambo)” is also included as the fourth movement of the orchestral suite derived from the ballet, Danzas del ballet Estancia, Op. 8a. 42 Robert Hatten, Interpreting Musical Gestures, Topics, and Tropes: Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 33. 43 See, for instance, Melanie Plesch, “Topic Theory and the Rhetorical Efficacy of Musical Nationalisms: The Argentine Case,” in Proceedings of the International Conference on Music Semiotics in Memory of Raymond Monelle, ed. Nearchos Panos (Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh, 2013), 328–37, http://sites.ace.ed.ac.uk/edmusemiotics/proceedings/. 44 There is no agreement among scholars about what constitutes a musical topic. Some authors have comparatively inclusive views accepting not only dances and musical styles but other music semiotic codes as well, such as pictorialism, portrayals of external entities, and recurring musical gestures. These include, among others, Ratner, Agawu, Monelle, Hatten, and Klein. Others only admit references to musics invoked out of their original context—notably Danuta Mirka; see her Introduction, in The Oxford Handbook of Topic Theory, ed. Danuta Mirka (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 1–59. Fortunately, there is no need to enter these theoretical disputes here, since the so-called folk idioms can be easily accommodated even within the latter, stricto sensu, definition of musical topic. 45 On these topics see Melanie Plesch, “From ‘Abandoned Huts’ to ‘Maps of the Pampas’: The Topos of the Huella and the Musical Representation of Landscape in Argentine Music,” in Studies on a Global History of Music: A Balzan Musicology Project, ed. Reinhard Strohm (Abingdon, UK, and New York: Routledge, 2018), 345–79; “’Una pena estrordinaria’: Tópicos disfóricos en el nacionalismo musical argentino,” Acta Musicologica 86, no. 2 (2014): 217–48. 46 Leonard G Ratner, Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style (New York: Schirmer Books, 1980), 9. 47 See, for instance, Esti Sheinberg, Irony, Satire, Parody and the Grotesque in the Music of Shostakovich: A Theory of Musical Incongruities (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2000); Nicholas McKay, “Deracinated, Dysphoric and Dialogised: The Wild and Beguiled. Semiotics of Stravinsky’s Topical Signifiers,” in Proceedings of the International Conference on Music Semiotics in Memory of Raymond Monelle, ed. Nearchos Panos (Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh, 2013), 193–201; Robert Hatten, “The Troping of Topics in Mozart’s Instrumental Works,” in The Oxford Handbook of Topic Theory, 514–37. 48 V. Kofi Agawu, Playing with Signs: A Semiotic Interpretation of Classic Music (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 35. 49 For example, the presence of a rhythmic foot accommodating a seguidilla pattern could point to a huella, but also to a gato. A huella, however, would have an acephalous beginning of five quavers, whereas a gato would most likely feature a brief anacrusis; the huella, moreover, could feature a unique harmonic sequence through the flat VI. The gato would have a lively and playful mood, whereas the huella would tend to convey a melancholy affect. 50 The accepted starting point is the work of Carlos Vega and his disciples, notably Isabel Aretz. Precedents include the collector Ventura Lynch (1883), anthropologist Robert Lehmann Nitsche (ca. 1900), and the composer Manuel Gómez Carrillo (ca. 1920). 51 Ventura R. Lynch, La provincia de Buenos Aires hasta la definición de la cuestión capital de la República (Buenos Aires: Imprenta de “La Patria Argentina,” 1883). The “capital question of the Republic” in the idiosyncratic title refers to the federalization of the city of Buenos Aires, which in 1880 became the capital of the country and was therefore jurisdictionally separated from the rest of the province of the same name. Lynch’s book has been republished as Cancionero bonaerense (1925), and as Folklore bonaerense, ed. Augusto Raúl Cortazar (1883; repr. Buenos Aires: Lajouane, 1953). 52 The melody that Lynch presents as “Estilo de Pajarito” (the triste “Después de tanto penar”) is perhaps the most notable case. For a full account of this process, see Plesch, “’Una pena estrordinaria.’” 53 Alberto Williams famously declared to have been inspired by the gaucho singers from the province of Buenos Aires (the mythical payadores de Juárez), whereas Carlos López Buchardo stated that he played the guitar with the peasants on his family estate. Alberto Williams, “Los orígenes del arte musical argentino,” La Quena 13, no. 64 (1932): 6–7; Lauro Palma, “Un músico que hace patria,” n.d., 1940, unidentified clip preserved at the Instituto de Investigación Musicológica “Carlos Vega,” Universidad Católica Argentina. 54 Fuelled by internal migration and the influence of cultural nationalism, a series of folk revival movements took place in Buenos Aires from the late nineteenth century onwards. These movements are variously known as nativismo, criollismo, and tradicionalismo. See Adolfo Prieto, El discurso criollista en la formación de la Argentina moderna (Buenos Aires: Editorial Sudamericana, 1988); and Carlos Vega, Apuntes para la historia del movimiento tradicionalista argentino (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1981). 55 See Marina Cañardo, Fábricas de músicas: Comienzos de la industria discográfica en la Argentina (1919–1930) (Buenos Aires: Gourmet Musical Ediciones, 2017); Ricardo Gallo, La radio: ese mundo tan sonoro (Buenos Aires: Corregidor, 1991); Carlos Ulanovsky, Días de radio: Historia de los medios de comunicación en la Argentina, 2 vols. (Buenos Aires: Emecé, 2004), vol. 1. 56 The Compañía first performed in Buenos Aires in 1921, although it had started its activities in 1911. On Chazarreta’s role, see Julius Reder Carlson, “The ‘Chacarera Imaginary’: ‘Santiaguenan’ Folk Music and Folk Musicians in Argentina” (PhD diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 2011); Oscar Chamosa, The Argentine Folklore Movement: Sugar Elites, Criollo Workers, and the Politics of Cultural Nationalism, 1900–1955 (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2010). 57 “Si es verano se van detrás del rancho a la sombra y se tumban; si invierno, juegan ó cantan unas raras seguidillas, desentonadas, que llaman de Cadena, o el Perico, o Mal-Ambo [sic], acompañándose con una desacordada guitarrilla que siempre es un tiple.” J[osé] Espinosa y Tello, “Estudio sobre las costumbres y descripciones interesantes de la America del Sur, por Espinosa,” in Viaje político-científico alrededor del mundo por las corbetas Descubierta y Atrevida al mando de los capitanes de navío Don Alejandro Malaspina y Don José de Bustamante y Guerra desde 1789 a 1794, publicado con una introducción por Don Pedro de Novo y Colson, ed. Pedro de Novo y Colson (Madrid: Impr. de la viuda é hijos de Abienzo, 1885), 557–619. 58 Carlos Vega, Las danzas populares argentinas, facsimile of the 1952 edition (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1986); Carlos Vega, El origen de las danzas folklóricas (Buenos Aires: Ricordi Americana, 1956). 59 Diario de la Tarde, 21 September 1837, cited in Vega, “El Malambo,” 56–57. 60 Diario de la Tarde, 27 June 1838. A similar announcement can be found in Diario de la tarde, 19 November 1840. Idiosyncratic spelling of the name in original. 61 “¡Ah, pieses! ¡Para un malambo / Conmigo, que todavía / No estoy del todo olvidado! / ¿Qué me dice patroncita? / ¿No me hará un escobillado … ?” Hilario Ascasubi, Santos Vega o los mellizos de la flor: Rasgos dramáticos de la vida del gaucho en las campañas y praderas de la República Argentina (1778–1808) (Paris: Dupont, 1872), 72. This reference seems to suggest that the malambo was danced by both men and women. 62 “Y mi cuento … ¡Voto al Diablo! / ¿no me lo dejan concluir / por echar un zapatiado?” Ascasubi, Santos Vega o los mellizos de la flor, 72. 63 “Moreira se había apoderado de la guitarra y había empezado por echar unas hueyas, concluyendo por rasguear el malambo más quiebra, que cepillaron la mayor parte de los concurrentes.” Eduardo Gutiérrez, Juan Moreira, Serie del siglo y medio 23 (1879; repr. Buenos Aires: Eudeba, 1961), 154. Earlier, a peasant says “Let us now dance [cepillar] a malambo, which the master [Moreira] will strum” (103). 64 Preserved at the Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” in Buenos Aires. This document is reproduced in Juan María Veniard, Arturo Berutti un argentino en el mundo de la ópera (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1988). 65 Arturo Berutti, “Aires Nacionales. VI,” reproduced in Veniard, Arturo Berutti, 358–60. 66 “los danzantes que escobillan, zapatean, repican, ora arqueando, inclinando, doblando y cruzando sus pies cuya planta apenas palpita sobre la tierra.” Lynch, La Provincia de Buenos Aires, 36. 67 There is a G-sharp missing in the first and third measures; this type of error is not uncommon in Lynch’s transcriptions. 68 A clear example can be heard in Folklore musical y música folklórica Argentina: Guitarra, LP, vol. 4, República Argentina Fondo Nacional de las Artes, (1966). 69 M. Bernárdez, “Crónica carnavalesca,” Caras y Caretas 2, no. 20 (18 February 1899): 15. 70 Joaquín V. González cites “the gato, triunfo, huella, the malambo, the aires and the mariquitas from Córdoba and other provinces from the Centre and North, characterized by their speed, the vivaciousness and continuity of movements and figures, by the music and the words of special style and nature.” Martiniano Leguizamón, Recuerdos de la tierra: Precedidos de una introducción por Joaquín V. González. Ilustraciones de Malharro, del Nido y Fortuny (Buenos Aires: Lajoune, 1896), xxii. Leguizamón’s description of the malambo, mostly echoes Lynch; he also cites other “pretty dances of the gaucho”, such as the pericón, gato, hueya, triunfo, firmeza, and cielo (276). 71 On the relationship between modernist nostalgia and art music in Argentina, see Melanie Plesch, “The Topos of the Guitar in Late Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Argentina,” The Musical Quarterly 92, nos. 3–4 (2009): 242–78; Plesch, “’Una pena estrordinaria.’” 72 He bases this connection on Damoetas’s line “Well, then, shall we try our skill / Each against each in turn?” Virgil, Eclogue III. As is well known, Lugones’s main aim in El payador is to argue for the Greco-Roman ancestry of gaucho poetry and music, and the epic nature of José Hernández’s Martín Fierro, traditionally regarded as the national poem. Leopoldo Lugones, El Payador, 3rd ed. (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Centurion, 1961), 115–16. 73 Vega, “El Malambo,” 51. 74 The first one was Eduardo Gutiérrez’s Juan Moreira (1884), followed by Juan Cuello and Martín Fierro in 1890, and Santos Vega in 1893. Beatriz Seibel, Historia del circo (Buenos Aires: Ediciones del Sol, 1993), 56–70. 75 Seibel reproduces a facsimile of the billboard (70). 76 Chazarreta’s arrangement of the famous Zamba de Vargas dates from 1906. See Vega, Apuntes para la historia del movimiento tradicionalista argentino, 107. 77 The show included zamba, chacarera, cuando, escondido, gato, marote, sombrerito, palito, media caña and malambo. Ibid., 120. 78 Listed by their surnames in the announcement and most commentaries, the full name is provided by the reviewer in the newspaper Crítica, 17 March 1921, reproduced in Juicios acerca de la obra folklórica de Andrés A. Chazarreta (Buenos Aires: Imprenta López, 1949), 49. 79 La época, 17 March 1921, cited in Juicios acerca de la obra folklórica de Andrés A. Chazarreta, 47, 50. Neimanoff was part of the ballet company of Anna Pavlova, and Jakovleff of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. Both companies visited Buenos Aires in 1917. See Enzo Valenti Ferro, 100 años de música en Buenos Aires: De 1890 a nuestros días (Buenos Aires: Ediciones de Arte Gaglianoil, 1992), 88. 80 Ricardo Rojas, “El coro de las selvas y las montañas,” La Nación, 18 March 1921, reproduced in Juicios acerca de la obra folklórica de Andrés A. Chazarreta, 54–55. 81 Eleuterio Iribarren, Mosaico Criollo, 1929. Reprinted in Paula Félix-Didier, Colección Mosaico Criollo: Primera antología del cine mudo argentino (Buenos Aires: Museo del Cine Pablo Ducrós Hicken, 2009). 82 This was possibly one of the conduits through which Ginastera became acquainted with it, as we know he was a film aficionado. 83 The music of Luces de Buenos Aires was written by Julio de Caro; the malambo is danced by [Ramón] Espeche. See Osvaldo Barsky and Julián Barsky, Gardel: El cantor del tango (Buenos Aires: Libros del Zorzal, 2010), 230. 84 “El Malambo: Contrapunto de mudanzas o zapateo,” in Sexto álbum de música nativa (Buenos Aires: Editorial Musical Pirovano, 1935), 8. 85 The recording also includes the tapping sound of the dancer’s zapateo. El Malambo: Contrapunto de zapateo, Andrés Chazarreta y su Orquesta de Arte Nativo por el zapateador José A. Rodríguez, LP, Victor 60-0712-A (1945). 86 Agawu, Playing with Signs, 40. 87 By “indiens” Williams meant aborigines rather than gauchos. Note that the second movement of the Sonata is titled “Vidalita, chanson des gauchos.” 88 This point is also noted in Schwartz-Kates, “The Gauchesco Tradition,” 716. 89 The first performance was in Montevideo (Uruguay) in 1940. 90 [José André], “Música: La A. A. de Compositores ofreció ayer una audición,” La Nación, 8 November 1942. The article is not signed but the author has been identified as José André by Pola Suárez Urtubey. See her Alberto Ginastera, 100. André had been one of Ginastera’s teachers at the Conservatorio Nacional. 91 See, for instance, Aguirre’s Hueya and Gato for piano, López Buchardo’s “Día de fiesta,” in Escenas argentinas for orchestra, and Gilardi’s overture Gaucho con botas nuevas. 92 This step is known as “primario.” Vega, “El Malambo,” 74ff. 93 The manuscript is presumed lost, but a copy acquired by Nicholas Slonimsky during his trip to South America in the 1940s has been kept in the Fleischer Collection at the Free Library of Philadelphia. The Concierto was premiered in 1941 in Montevideo by pianist Hugo Balzo with the orchestra of the SODRE conducted by Lamberto Baldi. Schwartz-Kates, “Ginastera, Alberto.” On the circumstances of the discovery and the current recording of this work, see Barbara Nissman, “Remembering Alberto Ginastera,” Piano Today 27, no. 3 (2007): 4–5, 30. 94 McClelland identifies harmonic instability as one of the elements of the ombra topic. Clive McClelland, Ombra: Supernatural Music in the Eighteenth Century (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2012), 74. 95 While some scholars confuse this section with a malambo reference (see Table 1), Schwartz-Kates, Antonieta Sottile, and Guillermo Scarabino correctly identify it as a gato. Deborah Schwartz-Kates, “Alberto Ginastera, Argentine Cultural Construction, and the Gauchesco Tradition,” 248–81; Antonieta Sottile, Alberto Ginastera: Le(s) style(s) d’un compositeur argentin (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2007); Guillermo Scarabino, Alberto Ginastera: Técnicas y estilo (1935–1950) (Buenos Aires: Facultad de Artes y Ciencias Musicales, Instituto de Investigación Musicológica “Carlos Vega,” 1996). 96 Carlos Vega, “El Gato,” in Las danzas populares argentinas, vol. 2 (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1986), 143–74; Isabel Aretz, El folklore musical argentino (Buenos Aires: Ricordi Americana, 1952). 97 Aretz, El folklore musical argentino, 193. Ginastera used the second (compressing) option in the “Gato” of his Cinco canciones populares argentinas. 98 Clear examples of the last two features can be found in Julián Aguirre’s celebrated Gato, and in Ginastera’s “Gato” in Cinco canciones populares argentinas. 99 The score is included in Abdon Arózteguy, Ensayos dramáticos (Buenos Aires: n.p., 1896), 4–8. 100 Vega, Apuntes para la historia del movimiento tradicionalista argentino, 45. On page 50 he even offers the exact scenes in which the gato was played. 101 The authorship of “El sol del 25” has been the object of some dispute. The music, to a text by Domingo Lombardi, is attributed to Gardel-Razzano in the early recordings—1917, Nacional 18001, and 1930, Nacional Odeón 18828. Researcher Orlando del Greco, however, posits that it was created by Santiago Rocca, author of the music of another Gardel hit, the triunfo “La tropilla.” Orlando del Greco, Carlos Gardel y los autores de sus canciones (Buenos Aires: Akian, 1990). “El sol del 25” was registered to Lombardi, Gardel, and Razzano in the Argentine Authors and Composers Society (SADAIC) in 1946. See http://www.sadaic.org. 102 As is well known, Malambo Op. 7 features a one-bar introduction with a reference to the topic of the guitar, and a three-bar coda. The original introduction was much longer and included references to other Argentine topics, as well as ideas that can be connected to later works. 103 This figuration can be connected to the popular gatos already mentioned as well as to their evocation in art music, in works such as Julián Aguirre’s celebrated Gato for solo piano. 104 The major departure from a gato pattern occurs in the melody (presented from the anacrusis of mm. 18–21), which does not afford scansion of traditional lyrics; however, it retains the idiosyncratic anticipation and compression in the phrasing described above. 105 Ludmer, The Gaucho Genre, 216ff; Ricardo Piglia, Crítica y ficción (Barcelona: Editorial Anagrama, 2006), passim. 106 Surprisingly, Gerard Béhague, in one of the few references to this work in the literature, does not recognize the malambo here and is instead misdirected toward the zamba, on the basis of its rhythmic figure. See Béhague, Music in Latin America: An Introduction, 218. 107 The relationship between malambo music and horses in Argentina was possibly established through a very popular song, “La tropilla” (The troop of horses), a triunfo by Santiago Rocca and Mario Pardo, recorded by Carlos Gardel in 1922. This work combines a traditional triunfo melody with a malambo harmonic and rhythmic pattern; the lyrics celebrate different types of Argentine horses and mention malambo and zapateos. 108 Similar to Chazarreta’s example, Ginastera superimposed on this scheme an original melody. The sketch is reproduced in Deborah Schwartz-Kates, “The Film Music of Alberto Ginastera: A Preliminary Review of the Sources,” Mitteilungen der Paul Sacher Stiftung 19 (2006): 25. Schwartz-Kates offers an analysis of this fragment in her “The Film Music of Alberto Ginastera: An Introduction to the Sources and Their Significance,” Latin American Music Review 2 (2006): 179ff. 109 Ratner, Classic Music, 9. 110 Moreover, the original introduction was much longer and included other topics. 111 Whether recurring gestures within a composer’s idiolect constitute topics or not remains to be discussed in the literature on musical topics. This is not the place to initiate this discussion, which certainly needs to take place. 112 I am using the term “obsessive” following the composer’s own characterization. See Suárez Urtubey, Alberto Ginastera, 72. 113 Wallace, “Alberto Ginastera”; Charles W. King, “Alberto Ginastera’s Sonata for Guitar, Op. 47: An Analysis” (DMA diss., University of Arizona, 1992); Alejandra Saez, “Alberto Ginastera’s Twelve American Preludes: Descriptive Analysis and Performer’s Guide” (DMA diss., Louisiana State University, 2014). 114 On the strummed guitar subtopic in Argentine art music, see Melanie Plesch, “La música en la construcción de la identidad cultural Argentina: El topos de la guitarra en la producción del primer nacionalismo,” Revista Argentina de Musicología 1, no. 1 (1996): 57–68 and “The Topos of the Guitar.” 115 This affinity with gato was also noticed by Pittman, “A Performer’s Analytical Guide to Indigenous Dance Rhythms,” 70. 116 Hanley, “The Compositions for Solo Piano,” 45. 117 His much quoted three-period classification of his oeuvre, in which he declares to be in a “neo-expressionist” stage (having left nationalism behind) dates from 1967. 118 Carlos Vega, “El Pala Pala,” in Las danzas populares argentinas, vol. 2 (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1986), 194. 119 This aspect of the plot is symbolized by a handkerchief or scarf tucked in the waist of the woman’s skirt, and which the man eventually snatches. The symbolism in the choreography is a construction of the folk revival movement, disseminated through folk dance manuals. Other versions exist, including a fight between two crows, and a rendition “suitable for children”— used in schools—according to which the dance is just an imitation of courtship. See Pedro Berrutti, Manual de danzas nativas: Coreografías, historia y texto poético de las danzas (Buenos Aires: Escolar, 1965), 180ff. 120 This little-known work, listed among the composer’s “Juvenilia” and reported to exist only in manuscript form, was published in 1957 under the title “North Argentinian Folk Dance” and included in Herman Reichenbach, ed., Modern Canons: 38 Contemporary Canons for 2–5 Voices (New York: Music Press, 1957), 38. Unlike the published version, the manuscript held in the Alberto Ginastera Collection, Paul Sacher Stiftung, is in full score. 121 The composer alerts us to its presence in the Preface: the first movement “has a main subject, a quasi-introduction and conclusion framing developments based on different dances and songs, among them the Argentinian Palapala [sic].” 122 The cassa india refers to the “caja,” a small frame drum with two heads and often furnished with a snare (Hornbostel-Sachs 211.312); the kena or quena is a vertical notched flute with six finger-holes (HS 421.111.12), disseminated in Bolivia, Peru, Northern Chile and Northern Argentina. While the caja is widely disseminated in the northern area of the country, the quena is circumscribed to the Quebrada de Humahuaca. See Instrumentos musicales aborígenes y folklóricos de la Argentina: Síntesis de los datos obtenidos en investigaciones de campo (1931–1980) (Buenos Aires: Instituto Nacional de Musicología “Carlos Vega,” 1980), 21, 25; Henry Stobart, “Kena,” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online,http:////www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-0000022682. 123 Mutatis mutandis, I take the idea of well-behaved and misbehaved dances from Melanie Lowe’s reference to “well-behaved” minuets in Haydn. Melanie Lowe, “Falling from Grace: Irony and Expressive Enrichment in Haydn’s Symphonic Minuets,” Journal of Musicology 19, no. 1 (Winter 2002): 171–221. 124 Pampeana No. 2 and the first movement of the Sonata for Cello and Piano are thematically related. See Malena Kuss, “Ginastera’s Cello Sonata,” Tempo (1980), 41–42; Malena Kuss, “Ginastera (1916-1983): La trayectoria de un método,” Revista Argentina de Musicología 14 (2013): 15–52. 125 For a consideration of this occurrence of the huella within the broader history of the topic in Argentine art music, see Plesch, “From ‘Abandoned Huts’ to ‘Maps of the Pampas.’” 126 Epigraph: from Notes on the Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 36. Alberto Ginastera Collection, Paul Sacher Stiftung. 127 Carballo, “De la Pampa al cielo,” chap. 3. 128 McClelland, Ombra; Michael Leslie Klein, Intertextuality in Western Art Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005), 77–107. 129 Jessica Narum, “Sound and Semantics: Topics in the Music of Arnold Schoenberg” (PhD diss., University of Minnesota, 2013), 240. 130 This includes Jessica Narum’s work on Schoenberg’s topics; Scott Schumann on Stravinsky’s; and Johanna Frymoyer on the relationship between octatonicism and ombra in the work of Russian composers. See Narum, “Sound and Semantics” and “‘As If with Lightning Bolts’: The Ombra and Tempesta in Schoenberg’s Das Buch der hängenden Gärten,” unpublished paper presented at the Twentieth- and Twenty-First-Century Song Cycles for Voice and Piano, Michigan State University, 2018; Scott Charles Schumann, “Making the Past Present: Topics in Stravinsky’s Neoclassical Works” (PhD diss., University of Texas, 2015); Johanna Frymoyer, “Octatonic and Ombra: The Russian Supernatural as a Musical Topic,” unpublished paper presented at the 39th Annual Meeting of the Society for Music Theory, Vancouver, 2016. 131 If we include the works later withdrawn by the composer, the figure can also be related to the opening piano part in the third movement of Concierto argentino. 132 Meredith Little and Natalie Jenne, Dance and the Music of J. S. Bach, rev. ed. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001), 164ff, 260ff, 283. 133 Alvaro Guibert, “El acorde sublime de Bomarzo, en el Real,” El cultural, 14 April 2017, http://www.elcultural.com/revista/escenarios/El-acorde-sublime-de-Bomarzo-en-el-Real/39494. 134 Diego Fischerman, “El Renacimiento,” Página 12, 6 August 2003, https://www.pagina12.com.ar/diario/suplementos/radar/9-777-2003-06-08.html. 135 Esteban Buch, The Bomarzo Affair: Ópera, perversión y dictadura (Buenos Aires: Hidalgo, 2003), 15. 136 Wallace, “Alberto Ginastera,” 50; Green, “Alberto Ginastera’s Harp Concerto, Op. 25,” 27. 137 The topic has been identified by Paulo de Tarso Salles in “Tribal Dance: A Twentieth-Century Musical Topic and its Meaning in Heitor Villa-Lobos’s Music,” unpublished paper presented at the conference Topical Encounters and Rhetorics of Identity in Latin American Art Music, University of Oxford, UK, 2015. 138 Victor Kofi Agawu, Music as Discourse: Semiotic Adventures in Romantic Music (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 50. 139 Raymond Monelle, The Sense of Music: Semiotic Essays (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 79. 140 Agawu, Music as Discourse, 50. 141 Marta Penhos has detected a similar attitude in the visual depictions of Argentine aborigines; see her “Indios del siglo XIX: Nominación y representación,” in Las artes en el debate del Quinto Centenario, Jornadas de Teoría e Historia del Arte 4 (Buenos Aires: Centro Argentino de Investigadores de Arte; Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, Universidad de Buenos Aires, 1992), 191. 142 “El alma argentina pasa, estremecida de dignidad heroica, en los viriles ritmos de la mediacaña y el malambo.” Ricardo Rojas, Eurindia: Ensayo de estética sobre las culturas americanas, vol. 2 (Buenos Aires: Centro Editor de América Latina, 1980), 12. 143 Juan Manuel Cotta, El compañero espiritual: Libro de lectura para sexto grado, Aprobado por el Honorable Consejo Nacional de Educación (Buenos Aires: F. Crespillo, 1933), 148. 144 Orestes di Lullo, El folklore de Santiago del Estero: (Material para su estudio y ensayos de interpretación) (Tucumán: Universidad Nacional de Tucumán, 1943), 98. 145 Avelino Herrero Mayor, Tradición y unidad del idioma: El diccionario y otros ensayos (Buenos Aires: El Ateneo, 1949), 52. 146 “Noticiero Sucesos Argentinos No. 819, ‘Embajada Folklórica,’” 1954, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcWfERuXYig. 147 Alberto de Zavalía, Malambo, film, 1946. The dialogue occurs at 4’18’’. 148 While the succession of topics does not necessarily construct a narrative thread, it is acknowledged that a narrative impulse can be detected in some works; this impulse is stronger in works with evocative titles. James A. Hepokoski, “Program Music,” in Aesthetics of Music: Musicological Perspectives, ed. Stephen C. Downes (New York: Routledge, 2014), 65; Agawu, Music as Discourse, 46. 149 “El hombre que anda á monte huyendo de la justicia.” Leguizamón, Recuerdos de la tierra, 278. 150 Fierro and Moreira start their lives as law-abiding gauchos but are then forced to turn into matreros. 151 Before 1937, year of the premiere of the “Danza del gaucho matrero,” El matrero had been performed in 1929, 1930, 1932, 1934, 1935, 1936. The libretto is based on the theater play of the same name by Yamandú Rodríguez. On the opera, see Malena Kuss, “Nativistic Strains in Argentine Operas Premiered at the Teatro Colón (1908–1972)” (PhD diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 1976); Deborah Schwartz-Kates, “Argentine Art Music and the Search for National Identity Mediated through a Symbolic Native Heritage: The ‘Tradición Gauchesca’ and Felipe Boero’s ‘El Matrero’ (1929),” Latin American Music Review 20, no. 1 (1999): 1–29. 152 Carlos Enrique Castelli, “Interpretadas por el pianista Antonio de Raco,” n.d., 1937, unidentified magazine clip, private collection. 153 Agawu, Playing with Signs, 130. 154 The construction of Argentine masculinities has received relatively little attention to date. See Eduardo Archetti, Masculinities: Football, Polo, and the Tango in Argentina (Oxford, UK, and New York: Berg, 1999); Carolina Rocha, ed., Modern Argentine Masculinities (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2013). 155 See, for example, “Questions of Authority: The Composer,” in Robert Philip, Performing Music in the Age of Recording (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), 140–82. 156 Agawu, Playing with Signs, 3. 157 Ibid. 158 Alberto Ginastera to Malena Kuss, 29 November 1979, cited in Kuss, “Ginastera (1916–1983): La trayectoria de un método,” 43. 159 “Escrita en forma de rapsodia y sin emplear material folklórico, recuerda los ritmos y las figuras melódicas de la música de las pampas argentinas.” Alberto Ginastera’s notes on Pampeana No. 2, Alberto Ginastera Collection, Paul Sacher Stiftung. 160 Ginastera’s historiographical ideas and their influence on his famous three-period division deserves further study. 161 Alberto Ginastera, “Homage to Béla Bartók,” Tempo: New Series (1981): 4. Ginastera mentioned the concept of “imaginary folklore” on various occasions. See also Luc Terrapon, “Gespräch mit Alberto Ginastera,” in Alberto Ginastera, ed. Friedrich Spangemacher (Bonn: Boosey & Hawkes, 1984), 13. 162 Epigraph: “No te sorprendas, Pola, si mando al diablo el folklore. Es que uno se harta de ser catalogado como sudamericano folklorista.” Alberto Ginastera to Pola Suárez Urtubey, 3 June 1979, Alberto Ginastera Collection, Paul Sacher Stiftung. 163 So far this has only been explored in terms of pitch relations and background structure. See especially, Kuss’s “Ginastera (1916–1983): La trayectoria de un método”; “Type, Derivation, and Use of Folk Idioms in Ginastera’s ‘Don Rodrigo’ (1964),” Latin American Music Review 1, no. 2 (1980): 176–95; “Alberto Ginastera and the Many Meanings of Bearbeitung,” in Musik, Raum, Akkord, Bild: Festschrift zum 65. Geburtstag von Dorothea Baumann (Bern and New York: Peter Lang, 2012), 467–72. © The Author(s) 2019. 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TI - Resisting the Malambo: On the Musical Topic in the Works of Alberto Ginastera
JF - The Musical Quarterly
DO - 10.1093/musqtl/gdy014
DA - 2019-03-01
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/resisting-the-malambo-on-the-musical-topic-in-the-works-of-alberto-mu5VRwFaeC
SP - 157
VL - 101
IS - 2-3
DP - DeepDyve
ER -