Debut performance of pieces by Mexican composer Silvestre Revueltas are as rare as black leopards in the Yucatan. Revueltas (1899–1940) died young of alcoholism, but left behind a quirky, radically charged, nationalistic body of work that even today astounds as it entertains. I warily approached the reconstructed ballet La Coronela, which (although performed in concert), has yet to be staged or choreographed as a ballet. I believe my wariness was justified. Controversy abounds within the current version by José Limantour and Eduardo Moncada, the second of two attempts (the first having disappeared). Although filled with energetic episodes rich in stylistic variation, the final section by Limantour clearly shows the mark of bowdlerizing hands. The military strains of “Taps” without a trace of irony or mockery? The very idea.

Limantour suffers from the same syndrome of musical reconstructionists from the Mozart/Süßmeyr Requiem to the Bartok/Serly Viola Concerto: reverence. It’s particularly odd when the third section contains what has to be original Revueltas strains: a sudden waltz tempo with tasty discordant harmonies. Just how closely was Limantour listening when he penned the lack-luster conclusion? La Coronela is more of a curiosity shop for completists than a truly aesthetic musical experience. The other two pieces on the disc, however, are small masterpieces with persistent flashes of genius throughout. The moody Itinerios is intensely lyrical with subtle rhythmic style. The earlier Colorines—rarely performed for some mysterious reason—is energetic and frisky, and above all, more internally consistent than his final piece, La Coronela.

“The Lady Colonel” is a ballet on the Mexican revolution left unfinished by Revueltas on his early death, but it was soon finished and orchestrated by colleagues for its 1940 premiere by the Ballet de Bellas Artes, choreographed by Waldeen, the Texas-born pioneer of modern dance in Mexico. Its four parts are typical of Revueltas, with abrupt shifts between bright and somber popular rhythms and melodies. It rambles at times, but is always interesting and often fun. This version was finished by José Limantor (who conducted in 1940) with the color and feel of Revueltas’ better known works like Sensemayá.

Revueltas (1899–1940), now often considered the Mexican Charles Ives, was in fact a combination of Ives, Milhaud, Stravinsky, and Satie, incorporating elements of each of these composers in his quirky yet fascinating blend of Mexican folk music and European forms. A manic-depressive, Revueltas fluctuated personally and musically between ecstatic highs and deeply sorrowful lows, and the full flavor of his music still has the ability to stun. He once wrote, “There is nothing I can say about the technique behind my music because it doesn’t interest me. Some good-humored people claim I have mastered composing technique; then again, some ill-tempered ones claim I haven’t. Well, they surely know better.”

The shorter couplings, vintage Revueltas indeed, are fabulously played and conducted as well, so if you’re a fan of this composer, frustrated to date by the unavailability of this major release, take heart and snap this up without delay.

In a composing career which spanned about 16 years Revueltas left a large body of work in all genres except opera. His music gets right to the point immediately; there’s never a note wasted, and he speaks the Mexican vernacular. Paul Bowles called him “The Mexican Falla” but his music is far too Rabelaisian for that. Falla was fastidious in everything he wrote. Revueltas is manic; one feels that he barely has time to get one idea on paper before another comes into his mind that must be used. It’s easy to see why he has been compared to Charles Ives for, at first hearing, one might think that here is someone who has little idea as to what he is doing. Further knowledge of the music—and this is also true of Ives—shows a strong hand and a strong musical mind at work.

Colorines, the earliest work here, is scored for a small orchestra and is full of Indian drumming, bird-calls, screams might be a better word, and it sings of the country villages and their people. You can hear all the subsequent cowboy film scores here, but this is the real thing, not an ersatz Mexico. Itinerarios is more serious. Huge chords for full orchestra lead to a saxophone lament, with the chords now reduced for a few instruments...La Coronela is the most important piece here. The notes, in the inlay, give the full story so I won’t dwell on it here beyond pointing out that it is a ballet involving skeleton characters based on the engravings of José Guadalupe Posada and a revolutionary plot around the theme of a workers’ coup against an oppressive régime. The work is in four episodes: Society Lady of Those Times; The Disinherited; Don Ferruccio’s Nightmare; The Last Judgement. Left incomplete when Revueltas died the first realisation fell to Blas Galindo with orchestration by Candelario Huizar. This was premiered in Mexico City in 1940 after which the score promptly disappeared. The ballet is heard here in an edition by Eduardo Hernández Moncada (who had conducted the 1940 premiere) and José Limantour. Limantour conducted the premiere of this version in 1962 in Mexico City. It’s a very exciting piece, having all the usual Revueltas fingerprints and it leaves you wanting more.

This is a fabulous disk, well worth having for the marvellous music it contains and the fact that here is a true wild card of music. Good notes, great sound. The sheer earthiness of this music is compelling, which makes it all the more fascinating that Revueltas’s attractive music should still be looking for an audience.

I really enjoyed Xavier Montsalvatge’s Piano Music, v. 1, with Jordi Maso, a Naxos disc recorded in Spain in 2008 [8.570744]. Volume 2 is already out, and I look forward to hearing it. [8.570756]