Jesús Rueda (b. 1961)
Piano Music
A recording of Jesús Rueda’s piano works is long
overdue. Rueda is today unquestionably the foremost
living Spanish composer for the piano. Although he has
never been a performer, his understanding of the
resources and potential of the piano is nevertheless
broader than that of most. His pianistic masterpieces
would not have existed—as he himself openly
acknowledges—had it not been for his intensive studies
of the pianism of Chopin, Liszt, Ravel and Prokofiev;
but it is his highly individual language that makes his
music not only so new and radical, but highly expressive
and communicative. He has successfully produced a
mesmeric blending of ‘classical’ and contemporary
elements: his compositions might ask the instrument to
whisper in utmost secrecy or, in Walt Whitman’s words,
to sound its “barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world”.
This ‘Rueda’ pianistic soundworld was launched
with his First Piano Sonata, composed in 1990–91.
Entitled Jeux d’eau, the sonata is clearly influenced by
Ravel, its nine-minute gorgeous wash of sensuous music
evoking radiating light, sweeping surges and powerful
torrents of water. This is Rueda the master draughtsman
at his most shimmering and seductive. The subtle use of
pedal should always be observed by the pianist in order
to take full advantage of the extensive palette of colours.
More than a decade separates Rueda’s first sonata
from his Second, entitled Ketjak. This time—even more
virtuosic than the first—the influences are jazz and
Balinese Kecak dance rhythms, and I am so profoundly
grateful for the honour of being its dedicatee. The motif
of the whole piece is introduced in the very first bar,
roaring in the lower registers of the instrument. This
motif develops in many different ways throughout the
piece, trembling with a textural density spanning from
hollowness of unearthly splendour to dense cascades of
pummelling electric charges.
The 24 Interludes are sophisticated short pieces which immediately engage us. The majority stem from
true life experiences, and they contain the most
ravishing musical expression Rueda has hitherto
articulated. Their wealth of expression ranges from the
most poignant anguish to the most ecstatic rapture and
even ironic wit. Some were conceived and developed in
Rome—where Rueda lived 1995–2000—evoking
impressions of the city (Movimiento, Niebla, Grazioso,
Corrente, Sospeso, Dibujo). Others are musical gifts for
the new-born babies of close friends (Canción de cuna,
Berceuse, and for my own baby daughter born in 1998:
Il filo di Alicia sull’acqua). Rueda does not hesitate to
look back in time, and in some numbers he indulges the
inextinguishable romantic urge: Chopin is directly
inspired by Prelude No. 16 of the great Polish
composer; Vision is a Lisztian study borrowing the title
from one of his Transcendental Etudes; Prokofiev’s
ghost appears in Toccata; and Rueda was possessed by
Scriabin’s spirit while writing Campo de Estrellas.
Notturno in Bali depicts the fearful 2002 night when the
terrorist bombs exploded in Bali; Seikilos is based on an
old Greek epitaph; and Rueda conjured up impressions
of his close friends in Retrato, Omaggio, Registros
separados and Corale. These exquisite pieces
sometimes also serve as studies or sketches for a larger
future work.
Mephisto (1999) is one of the pieces originating
from my invitation to a number of Spanish composers to
write a ‘hommage’ for the seventieth birthday of Luis de
Pablo, who had once been Rueda’s teacher. The piece’s
gestation took place while Rueda was travelling in
Syria, Lebanon and Jordan. Modelled on Liszt’s famous
first waltz, it is certainly a terrifying tour-de-force for
any pianist, fiercely erupting in a Dionysian catharsis in
the third—and final—section of its five-minute
countdown to the apocalypse.
Being a great composer, Rueda understands the piano so well that he can write—as composers of the
past have done—(very) simple and highly attractive
pieces for children to play. In 2003 he started writing
these Inventions, dealing with basic piano techniques
and ranging technically from the very simple to the
moderately difficult. In this recording we hear nine of
them. Bouncy Black is for black keys in intervals of a
second, and Inner Piece is its counterpart for white
keys. Then there is the Ligetian “blocked keys”
technique in Watch Your Steps, the unending cascade of
notes in To Be Continued and amusing rhythmic games
in The Happiest Seconds. Rueda continues to add
attractive short pieces to the approximately fifty he has
already written; Inventions is thus an essential
contribution to the musical education of the young.
Ananda Sukarlan
