CANTO CALÓ (2023)
for Mezzo-Soprano and String Quartet or Mezzo-Soprano and Piano
Duration: 16 minutes
Written for Melinda Martinez Becker & Anne Rainwater with support from InterMusicSF
Support from from Innova Recordings (The American Composers Forum), NewMusicUSA (Creator Development Fund), and the Alice M. Ditson Recording Fund
Canto Caló (I sing Caló / Caló songs) was originally commissioned by New Moon Duo and conceived at Avaloch Farm in New Hampshire and has since been arranged for Melinda and Friction Quartet. Caló is the language created by Pachucos in the Southwest through California, commonly associated with mambo dancing, zoot suit wearing Chicanos from El Paso to California, but it’s become a national movement with language, fashion, food, and art still taking inspiration from it decades later. It’s inspired by New Mexican grandparents, specifically my two grandfathers Eduardo (Eddie) Garcia and Gilberto (Gilbert) Benavides as well as Melinda’s grandmother Melinda Stella Martinez Lane. Writing these songs was something of a meditation on their influence on our lives, and it uses original texts by me and Melinda as well as a lullaby (El Zapatero) and an original lyric written by my grandfather (Canción de guerra) when he was drafted into the Korean War
Program Notes.
This song cycle explores the memory of grandparents and the way in which those memories live and breathe within us. Like memories, these songs are meant to sound simultaneously old and new. Remembering is an act in which memories are always changed, always refreshed. Though these memories are of specifically New Mexican grandparents (mine and Melinda’s), it's a feeling that all of us are familiar with: how do we keep memory, and therefore culture, alive? In the process of writing these songs we interviewed family, remembered our grandparents, and even learned to speak their lingo, which is a mixture of Spanish and English: Caló.
This isn't a museum piece, and it isn't a future piece, it's a piece for the present. It’s sung from the point of view of those who remember. Us.
I. El Zapatero (words: traditional) - “The shoemaker.” The words are a traditional nursery rhyme that Melinda's nana used to sing to her when she was a child. We remember nursery rhymes as adults not for their function of putting ourselves to sleep, but for the comfort of remembering those who once sang to us. The song fades in, as though it hasn't been recited in years, but once the words are firmly in the mind it takes off. It culminates with "¡Malaya zapatero!" which means "damn shoemaker!” El zapatero didn't make the duck toed shoes as the child wanted. It's sung from Melinda's point of view.
II. Bueno (words: Nicolás Lell Benavides) - “Good.” My grandpa used to always say the word “bueno” as a response to just about anything, the meaning changing with the context. So many of his expressions were rhythmic by nature, important and comforting because of their sound, not always their dictionary definition. This song is the only one to feature English, and remembers things he used to say as well as popular Caló idioms that are as fun to say as they are to understand.
III. Canción de Guerra (words: Gilbert Benavides) - “Song of War”. Both of my grandpas served in the Korean War, and while on the way my grandpa Benavides wrote words for a song. He died at age 88, having found a tumor only weeks before. He was brave and seemingly unfazed, enjoying the company in his hospital room when he enthusiastically called me over and recited this song one more time for me, sing-speaking it while smiling. It's a song about bravery, faith, and fear of the unknown. The sound world is simple, showing the courage he projected and anxiety I know today he must have felt. It’s sung from my point of view, speaking the words over and over to myself after he died, realizing that if we had been the same age I would have looked up to him, even then.
IV. Ni el cielo… (words: Melinda Martinez Becker) - “Neither the sky…” Melinda wrote this text as an homage to the memory of what makes New Mexico wonderful. Though we prize the food, the open sky, and the mountains, what really makes it special is the people. The sound world is that of a memory, focused on an incantation that is almost meditative. It livens up as she recalls her mother’s hands and her ponytail, infinitely more important than any landscape.
V. El Brío Nuevomejicano (words: Nicolás Lell Benavides) - “The New Mexican Spirit". This song is for all four of my grandparents, but specifically dedicated to my grandpa ("grampo") Garcia who taught me traditional music by playing his accordion. He always told me there is no state more beautiful than New Mexico, primarily because of the music and people. Inspired by the tradition of rancheras that tell the (usually machismo) story of a protagonist who conquers his enemies, the desert, and lovers, I decided to write it from the point of view of a fictional accordionist inspired by him. "Nací con Burque en mi sangre" means "I was born with Burque (Albuquerque) in my blood." He takes it with him everywhere, as do I. In this virtuosic song the protagonist loves to play his "teclas y fuelles" (keys and bellows of the accordion) and party with friends, working up a frenzy until it suddenly stops and he remembers that he isn't a young man anymore, but an older man with grandchildren. What's important to him is the New Mexican spirit, and the joy of being a generational conduit that passes it down. I'm lucky that he's still alive today, inspiring me to learn increasingly more about where I come from.
Nicolás Benavides
For Mezzo-Soprano & String Quartet or Piano
Duration: 16:00
Score, Parts, and Piano/Vocal included
Written for Melinda Martinez Becker & Anne Rainwater with support from InterMusicSF, Innova Recordings (The American Composers Forum), NewMusicUSA (Creator Development Fund), and the Alice M. Ditson Recording Fund
This song cycle explores the memory of grandparents and the way in which those memories live and breathe within us. Like memories, these songs are meant to sound simultaneously old and new. Remembering is an act in which memories are always changed, always refreshed. Though these memories are of specifically New Mexican grandparents (mine and Melinda’s), it's a feeling that all of us are familiar with: how do we keep memory, and therefore culture, alive? In the process of writing these songs we interviewed family, remembered our grandparents, and even learned to speak their lingo, which is a mixture of Spanish and English: Caló.
This isn't a museum piece, and it isn't a future piece, it's a piece for the present. It’s sung from the point of view of those who remember. Us.
Published by Buena Vida Music
#BVM1020
ASCAP: 930168010
