Madrigal and Five Sephardic Songs serve up more soulful longing but with a Sephardic (Jewish) edge to the harmony and style, more in the rhetorical style of chant. One of the lullabies modulates up one half-step so subtly and gorgeously that you become aware of it only after it happens.

In both song sets Maria Bayo is ravishing. Her luscious voice reflects the meaning of the texts with a lucid voice that has almost an Eastern European edge to it, while quintessentially Spanish in style. Pepe Romero serves up a kaleidoscope of sensitivity [in] the best guitar playing I’ve heard in years. Here is beauty and soulfulness through and through.

The 34-minute Concierto de Cienfuegos, written in honor of Celedonio Romero, is named after the town in Cuba where he was born; the third (final) movement is filled with infectious can’t-sit-still Cuban rhythms. Each movement has an utterly integral form and never wears out its welcome, especially in this performance. The guitars are spread out across the sound spectrum in a manner that gives each of them its own identity yet unites them into an integral ensemble. Also, Palomo writes with a considerably richer orchestral palette than does Joaquin Rodrigo, and Frühbeck de Burgos shows it off brilliantly.

The engineering for both the songs and the concerto couldn’t be better. It’s rich, warm, superbly balanced, embracing, and free of gimmickry, leaving the performances entirely in the hands of the artists.

Taking the Concerto first, I believe it is the finest such work written for the Romero Guitar Quartet, a world-famous family group who also hail from the Andalusia region (and that corpus includes concertos by Moreno Torroba and Rodrigo). Deftly sidestepping the pitfalls of writing for multiple soloists and a large ensemble, Palomo scores with delicacy, often using individual instruments of the orchestra to underline specific thematic and rhythmic patterns. The work is in the usual three movements. While it must be said that at nearly 34 minutes it rambles occasionally, the ideas are so enjoyable and the textures so piquant that all is forgiven. The outer sections of the slow movement (subtitled “Song to the Night: Lullaby”) are quite lovely, and the percussion-driven 10/4 meter of the exuberant final movement is similarly hard to resist.

Palomo’s music is by no means postmodern—it is even less spiced with harmonic dissonance than that of Rodrigo, which it resembles—but he nevertheless manages to avoid cliché. This is apparent in the song collections, especially the bigger of the two, My Secluded Garden. Here the composer sets brief, folk-like poems by Celedonio Romero, the patriarch and founder of the Romero Quartet. While one or two songs indulge in flamenco declamation (“Soledad”), most are contemplative, as the overall title would suggest. Even No. 5, “Burlesque Song,” turns out to be lyrical and inward looking. My personal favorite is No. 8, “The Evening”; it opens with an extended pensive guitar solo, representing the setting sun, perhaps? The Sephardic songs in the second set bring a subtle hint of Middle Eastern flavor to the proceedings.

It says something of the quality of this music that artists such as María Bayo, Pepe Romero, and Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos are prepared to perform it. I have been enjoying Bayo’s recordings of Spanish songs for several years…She sings here with expressive detail, coloring her attractive, bright tone as required. Pepe Romero’s artistry remains formidable, while the Quartet (which now contains two sons of the original four family members) plays with precision and nuance.

Sound quality is clear and open…All in all, this release is a winner. If you’re a fan of Rodrigo’s ubiquitous Concierto de Aranjuez, give Palomo a try.