Rapsodia sinfónica, Op.66

One of the more valuable pieces of advice given by one composer to another was addressed by Albéniz to Turina in 1907 when the former suggested to the latter that he should consider turning to Spanish folk music for his inspiration. Up to that point Turina had seen himself as a quite different kind of composer. He was studying with d’Indy at the Schola Cantorum in Paris and had suppressed the Spaniard in him to become a second-generation disciple of César Franck. But it was on hearing Turina’s obediently cyclic Piano Quintet, Op.1, that Albéniz realised that the Schola ethos represented no kind of future for a young man from Seville and concluded that he should acknowledge his national heritage. Although it was only after his return to Spain in 1914 that Turina was able to draw with full-scale conviction on his musical roots, his experiences in Paris in the meantime - not least his encounters with the Spanish-friendly music of Debussy and Ravel - had taken him a long way towards that situation.

Like his slightly older friend and colleague Manuel de Falla, Turina derived much of his material from the music of Andalusia. He was particularly drawn to the folk song of his native Seville, which was the source of inspiration of much of his work, including the Danzas Fantásticas, the most successful of all his scores alongside another product of the early 1920s, the once popular but now largely forgotten Oración del torero (Bullfighter’s prayer). The Rapsodia sinfónica, his last orchestral work, was completed in 1931 and represents a rather more mature and more reflective composer, less interested in the precise evocation of a certain place and the physical exhilaration of a specific dance form than in a more generalised flamenco atmosphere.

While inevitably limiting the range of colour available, the scoring of the Rapsodia sinfónica for piano and strings alone encourages an intimate relationship between soloist and orchestra. The extended slow (Andante) introduction begins with a firm statement from the strings and dramatic gestures on the piano but at an early stage they are both engaged in a nostalgic improvisation on Spanish themes, the textures enriched by decorative keyboard effusions and the sentiment intensified by a poignant comment from a solo violin or expressive exchanges between upper and lower strings. The shorter and quicker (Vivo) section, the start of which is signalled by a vigorous rumble on the piano as it assembles its energy, has a clearer purpose. Basically, it is a matter of extracting maximum interest from the contrast between, on the hand, two brief but lively dance tunes and, on the other hand, a more developed lyrical melody introduced by piano and immediately answered by solo violin. Although Turina applies local colour with restraint here, the Andalusian inspiration is both unmistakable and irresistible.