The composer of the Stabat Mater presented in this sound recording was musically educated in Malaga Cathedral at the end of the first third of the 19th century. The musical chapel of the citys first tempo had already suffered the onslaught of the yellow fever of 1803 and the French invasion during the Napoleonic invasion (1808\-1814), and had yet to receive the lethal blows of the successive disentailment measures of Mendizábal (1836), Espartero (1841) and Madoz (1854). However, what seemed to put an end to the stable ensemble to solemnise cathedral liturgies was paradoxically giving way to a paradigm shift. The everyday music of the cathedrals would be reduced to a minimum thanks to the resources established in the Concordat of 1851 signed between Pope Pius IX and Queen Elizabeth II. Hence, the drastic mutilation of the stable staffs in the cathedrals favoured what would quickly become a common and frequent practice, i.e. the ex profeso hiring of instrumental and vocal troops for certain solemnities and festivities, among which those related to Holy Week and its natural period of spiritual preparation, namely Lent, were particularly noteworthy.

Maitena (1909) was a further step towards achieving the ideal of Basque opera linked to that of its own lyric theatre. For the critic and musicographer Francisco Gascue: “Colin has written a score that is as far from Wagnerian complications as it is from orchestral poverty; it is accessible without being poor or rudimentary. Colin has shown the same exquisite taste in the handling of the orchestra as in the choice of melodies”. He also singles out the duet between Domingo and Maitena at the beginning of Act I, the tenor and baritone duet that follows, the quartet in Scene VI, the melody sung by Chaadiñ at the beginning of Act II, Batista’s couplets and for its effect and simplicity the Angelus scene. He ends by noting the appropriate treatment of the chorus.

This is an album of celebration, of encounter, which aims to give universal meaning to the island identity, which has been worked with care, delicacy, heart and rigor. A work and a trajectory of Las Palmas Symphony Orchestra, which we can all be proud of. With this album, our beloved orchestra celebrates its twentieth birthday and has chosen the path of rereading old melodies of folklore and folk song. They contain a review of genres and songs that keep all their freshness, but seasoned with curious arrangements, melodic and rhythmic turns that give a new aesthetic value to our popular musical heritage. In the Canary Islands it is not new that classical musicians are interested in folklore. We all remember the work of Power and his Canarian Songs, which are a symbol of the Canarian identity. However, he was not the only one of his time to approach the Canarian tradition in order to adapt it to the symphonic language. Less well known, but just as important is the figure of Bernardino Valle, who bequeathed us an exquisite review of Canarian airs in his work Suite Sinfónica Canaria, from 1898.

The composer of the Stabat Mater presented in this sound recording was musically educated in Malaga Cathedral at the end of the first third of the 19th century. The musical chapel of the city’s first tempo had already suffered the onslaught of the yellow fever of 1803 and the French invasion during the Napoleonic invasion (1808-1814), and had yet to receive the lethal blows of the successive disentailment measures of Mendizábal (1836), Espartero (1841) and Madoz (1854). However, what seemed to put an end to the stable ensemble to solemnise cathedral liturgies was paradoxically giving way to a paradigm shift. The 'everyday' music of the cathedrals would be reduced to a minimum thanks to the resources established in the Concordat of 1851 signed between Pope Pius IX and Queen Elizabeth II. Hence, the drastic mutilation of the stable staffs in the cathedrals favoured what would quickly become a common and frequent practice, i.e. the ex profeso hiring of instrumental and vocal troops for certain solemnities and festivities, among which those related to Holy Week and its natural period of spiritual preparation, namely Lent, were particularly noteworthy.

Chamber music is traditionally associated with music for a small group of instruments. However, in the past the Royal Chamber welcomed a wide variety of both vocal and instrumental repertoires, as well as devotional music. In the palaces of the Spanish royal family the rooms of the kings and infants had ample dimensions, which made possible the attendance of a large group of musicians and listeners. This album brings together pieces linked to the musical activity of the Spanish court and specifically reflects the variety of repertoire that could be heard in the Royal Chamber during the times of Charles IV and Ferdinand VII. Charles IV’s interest in instrumental music is well known, since, in addition to promoting academies and concerts virtually on a daily basis, he was himself a violin player. On the contrary, though little is known about Ferdinand VII as a promoter of music, we can assert that he promoted an important chamber music activity following the lines marked out by his father Charles IV, to which can be added the enthusiastic participation of his wives and children. The pieces chosen for this album are vocal and instrumental works that sounded in the chamber of the kings and were composed by Gaetano Brunetti, Francisco Brunetti and José Lidón, renowned composers in the service of the court who had great acknowledgement at that time, and who deserve to be listened to and enjoyed by all fans who will be captivated by their exceptional quality.

Opposing the deprecatory view of a backward and isolated Spain that has prevailed until recently, Brunetti's music shows that what was composed in the rest of Europe was widely and intensely welcomed in Madrid. Cayetano Brunetti was born around 1744 in Fano, a city located on the Adriatic coast. We know that in 1760, aged 15 or 16, he already lived in Madrid with his parents. Due to their unusual instrumentation, the six Sestetti a due violini, oboe, due viole e violoncello stand out within Brunetti's work. According to the manuscript scores, the sextets were composed per divertimento di S.M.C (for the amusement of His Catholic Majesty), which means that they were originally written for the concerts that the musicians of the Royal Chamber would perform for Carlos IV. Lightness, emotion, brilliance, and complexity is what gives these sextets their peculiar beauty, which is hardly found in chamber music written during the second half of the 18th century.

The piano pieces on this release, all of them, show the lushness of aromas, colors, and reflections of prodigal lands in the production of artistic sensations. One could speak of landscapes in which the human element is present; the voice of a folk tradition which longs to express its most intimate essence, not in an illustrative but in an evocative sense. They embody a perfect communion between the performer, the music, and the context, governed by its aesthetic values that connect with the principles of reason, logos, and intelligence. The first cultural theme of nationhood is the idea of community reflected through shared memory and values, and, in this project by pianist Juan Carlos Fernández-Nieto they find their musical testimony.

In the fifty songs we find in Carneriana, so carefully interpreted, David Alegret invites us dive into a poetic and musical universe that reveres life, that celebrates existence, and that expresses the beauty in the world look for sonorities, contrasts, and harmonies that can be reflected in song. What better answer than Carner’s poetry, Alegret’s placid, rigorous singing, and Fernández Aguirre’s wise pianism. And yet, the tenor and pianist did not settle for the more or less typical and predictable formulas, such as the Carnerian songs by Toldrà (which already play their own integral part), but also with living authors, to whom ad hoc compositions were requested for the production of this record. The music gathered in this album, which sings Carner’s poetry, allows us to be free and to be masters of ourselves and our time.

This recording should be seen in that manner: as a beginning, a solo recording debut by Alejandro Algarra in which he confronts two colossi of the instrument. It is quite a recording milestone to tackle these two essentials. A real challenge both for him as a performer and for IBS Classical as a record label. So please do not be deceived by the apparent simplicity and unpretentiousness of the term prelude. Quite the opposite, in fact. Nor should a prelude be understood in this case as a prolegomenon to a major piece (“Preludes to what?”, as André Gide wondered in his famous Notes sur Chopin), but as individual works which, taken as a whole, represent a major technical and interpretative challenge; undoubtedly one of the all-time highs of piano literature.

Palatín’s compositional style, despite its own character was influenced by other works and composers and therefore we find a certain eclecticism in his work. There is no doubt that these pieces for violin are written with the intention to display the instrument either for its lyricism or to show its acrobatic possibilities. But this does not affect the musical beauty of his compositions because when he makes the violin sing he writes melodies of precious and original workmanship. In the same manner, the virtuosic pieces are not exempt from artistic interest.

Carmelo Bernaola is one of the Generation of '51’s most representative Spanish composers. After training as a clarinetist, he studied at the Madrid Royal Conservatory with Francisco Calés Otero and Julio Gómez, between 1951 and 1958. He won the Roma Prize, leading him to live in Italy for two years (1960-1962). During this era, he made contact with the European avant-garde in classes by Goffredo Petrassi and Bruno Maderna and discovered Sergiu Celibidache’s phenomenology of music. Returning to Madrid in 1962, he received the National Music Award. He premiered his orchestral work Espacios variados, the first attempt to combine intervallic serialism with the mobile or aleatoric form. In the 60s, he also began to work as an audiovisual composer, creating more than a hundred soundtracks. He became director of the Jesús Guridi Music Conservatory in Vitoria-Gasteiz, where he would teach students such as Zuriñe F. Gerenabarrena (include in this album with “Jaso”). This era produced notable works using quotations from and allusions to other music, and completed two large projects in the 90s: the cantata Euskadi and the ballet La Celestina, which was premiered in 1998 in the re-opened Teatro Real of Madrid. Conductor Nacho de Paz is specially renowned for his commitment to the music of XXth and XXIst centuries. His work with experimental, multimedia and new creation repertoire is a reference in Spain. He has been awarded the international composition prizes Joan Guinjoan (2002), Luigi Russolo (2003) and SGAE of electroacoustics (2004). He specialized in Orchestral Conducting with Arturo Tamayo and Pierre Boulez. He is conductor of Ensemble Modern.

The album Falla 1915 offers us the opportunity to experience a composer reborn through two of his masterpieces. In Siete canciones populares espanolas, the orchestral imagination of composer Francisco Dominguez enriches the original piano accompaniment without losing any folkloric substance. The first version of El amor brujo rediscovers a title that was created to be much more jondo [deeper], rawer and with more gypsy soul than the ballet it later became. Passion and spirit, sensuality and color come together to highlight what Falla loved and defended most: the preservation of our memory and our cultural heritage.

This album contains a collection of works from the Seicento, most of them well known, although it also includes a composition (Cazzati’s La Verità sprezzata) that is little or not very often heard. Since the foundation of Los Músicos de Su Alteza, we have devoted a substantial part of our work to the performance of 17th century music, often unpublished and forgotten since that time. Consequently, the vanitas argument has recurrently formed part of our programs; and it would not be unreasonable to say that every early music project is an exercise in vanitas. The subject of this disc is truth, but vanitas has inevitably crept into it. All the vocal works on this recording offer, in their own way, partial glimpses of the truth. The truth, or rather, the truths revealed by these compositions are not always flattering. On the contrary, they are truths that hurt, truths like fists that strike those who suffer the immediate consequences of their knowledge, or those who know in advance the terrible sufferings they will endure in the future. The allegory of Truth itself is also shown transformed into a suffering person. Thus, truth and disillusionment seem inextricably linked.