MARA ARANDA I SOLATGE.Dèria (Galileo-mc, 2009)

TEXTOS 'DÈRIA' BY JOSEP VICENT FRECHINA.

The Tramuntana gasps in Punta Nati¹ in the first days of the Minorcanwinter. The flocks heed its call to insanity sheltered within the dry-stone huts. TheTramuntana passes though the Gulf of Roses and the Empordanet² leaving the heavens cleanand painting the night a dark and metallic blue. The lebeche³ whistles as it bites down uponthe Cape of San Antonio, shaking the agave plants and stripping the lavender of its leaves.The North wind howls rushing down the river Ebro beating the bushes in fury and dryingup everything in its path.

A shepherd reposes in a resting place along the path. At his side the olive trees twist theirgnarled skin a little more, whimpering as they allow the gale to pass between their leaves.The shepherd, seated at the fireside, has taken a rebec⁴ , which he fashioned from a drygourd a few weeks ago, from a fur-lined bundle. He takes two bites from a hunk of drybread, tunes the gut strings with care, sighs deeply and begins to sing an old ballad to keephim company. The laments of the rebec blend with the wind, which takes cuttings of themelody and carries them away in search of the sea.

The cancionero⁵ descended from the Pyrenees through the ligallos⁶ and glens of the tracks oftranshumance, along the arduous routes of the muleteers, along the secret paths of the wind.

¹ The Tramuntana is a strong wind that blows at over a hundred km/hr in the winter months, moulding the vegetationof the Northern extreme of the island of Minorca where the isolated lighthouse of Punta Nati is to be found.² Empordanet or Baix Empordá is a small region in the North East of the Iberian peninsular between the Pyreneesand the Mediterranean.³ A warm, dry wind that blows from the South West, often bringing sand and fine dust from the Sahara.⁴ An ancient three stringed instrument, similar to the lute, which was played with a short curved bow.⁵ The Spanish word cancionero, usually translated as “Song Book” or “Anthology”, is perhaps best understood inthe present text as being the musical oral inheritance of the land described: Music, lyrics and legends passed downfrom generation to generation orally.⁶ Ligallo is a local expression for a transhumance route.

THE OIL

The oil sizzles in the paella dish where some cloves of garlic are browning. Thereis a pail brimming with fresh red mullets and a basket of dried ñoras¹. The aroma of the friedonion, garlic and tomatoes mixes with the scent of the sea, given off by the fishing nets inthe sun and the saltpetre, brought along by the gentle gusts of the east wind. The day diesin the west and Venus takes on a blue hue in the centre of a sky containing all the shades ofmauve.

Beneath a wattle, around a marble table and seated upon chairs of bulrushes, a group offishermen finish off the day with a few drams of wine. One of them hums a song as his gazeis lost in the bottom of the glass, as if scrutinising the purple sediment trace of the liquid. Itis an Italian melody he sings, learned from some Neapolitan sailors he had encountered inAlgerian waters. The melancholy of the song seems to infect the very sea itself as it languishesin silence.

The cancionero came in through the ports, caught in the crates of conger eels and sea bass,like a tangle of seaweed, like the scent of the sea.

¹ Ñoras: Small red peppers.

SANT JOAN

Sant Joan¹ has filled the Mediterranean night with fires while June has filledravines and gullies with oleanders in bloom.

A few hours ago a violent sun scorched the stones and only the slice of sea that could beglimpsed to the east fought, with little glints of blue, against the unanimous whiteness of thelight. Dust, sweat and weariness on the threshing floors: the mules walked, exhausted, in circleon the matured wheat, led by a threshing song which endeavoured to ease the hardshipof the work: “It’s not even eleven yet and already the sun prickles...”

However, now people laugh, sing and dance around the bonfires, repeating ancestral riteswith deep conviction: leaping over the fire, throwing rockets, harvesting medicinal herbs forthe year, wetting feet in the sea and, in the case of single women, hiding a globe artichoke²under their pillow. From the valleys of the Pyrenees to the coastal plains the clamour ofcelebration and its infectious music are to be heard.

Song formed part of both work and celebration, it rose up towards the vault of heaven alongwith the smoke of the bonfires and the dust of the threshing floors and cloaked the land inconsolation and well-being.

¹ On the night of San Juan (23rd/24th June) it is traditional in Spain to light bonfires and jump over them in anattempt to cut the ties with all the negatives aspects of one’s life.² Flor de Alcachofa “Artichoke flower “ (Cynara Scolymus). In certain areas of Valencia it was thought that if ayoung girl placed this plant under her pillow at night and found the next day that it had bloomed this was a sure

sign that she was soon to meet her husband.

THE DISSOLUTE KING.

The dissolute king lies with a seemingly unknown maiden. Outsidethe room keeping watch are “twenty four good men and abbots and priors and thebishop’s official and men of the cloth and twelve women and twelve maids with wax candlesin their hands ... and two notaries” to bear witness to the consummation of the copulation.The king lies, in fact, with the queen, but does not know it: his sexual appetites were directedat other “genteel women” and now he has fallen into a trap. On this night, if we are to believethe royal chronicles, the future James I will be engendered and with him a new physiognomyfor the south of medieval Europe¹.

It will all happen within a short period of time: shortly after, Peter “the Catholic”, the deceivedking, will fall at the battle of Muret and the Catalonian/Arangonese crown will foreverrenounce the Occitanian dream to begin an expansion towards the south and towards thesea when the young king reaches the age to go to war.

The new Kingdom of Valencia, won from AlAndalus inch by inch, will fill with coloniserswho will come down from Aragon and Catalonia, adventurers in search of bounty, peasantsfleeing baneful servitude, Occitan Cathari hiding from the Albigensian crusades. All of themwill have to coexist by force with the old landowners who will be subjugated by the newlords for four centuries.

Thus, Catalonians, Aragonese, Occitans and Muslims will make up the sediment from whichwill bloom, years later, a new and particular identity.¹ This trick, where Queen Mary of Montpellier was substituted for one of King Peter the Second’s mistresses,was apparently carried out at the instigation of nobles and clergymen who were worried by the lack of an heirto the throne.

TRAGIC BALLADS

Tragic ballads sung at the fireside, threshing songs improvised over phrases fromfandangos, feast dances for fiestas that conceal courtship ceremonies, melodies that floatdown the rivers or climb up towards the hills.

In their project the intention of Mara Aranda and Solatge has been to commence their musicalcourse concocting a repertoire gathered from the territories of what was the crown ofAragon: a strip of land that stretches from the hinge of the Pyrenees chasing the Mediterraneanand hurls itself into the sea to embrace a handful of islands. It is a land of heterogeneousand oscillating identity, custodian of a rich cancionero arisen from the confluence andsedimentation of extremely diverse cultures of the east and west and with the sea alwaysfelt from the east.

The songs of farmhands who arrive from remote lands for the harvest, of blind men whotravel dusty roads to earn a living from ballads, of musicians hired for the week of fiestas, ofshepherds and of muleteers, of artisans and skilled workers, of peasants and of fishermen.The kings drew up the maps, established borders, granted charters. The music, however,

would come from the men and women who were far removed from the ins and outs of politicalintrigue, from the sexual caprices of royalty and from their territorial greed. Fortuitousinhabitants of a country that barely offered them sustenance, they adopted a handful ofsongs without nation and, seduced by their aesthetic values, conserved them in their memoryand passed them down to their children.

This album was born from the distillation of that sediment, and the determination of themusicians to merge their creative machinery into it: if you listen you will hear how in thebackground the shepherd’s rebec, the murmured song of the fisherman, the dust of the threshing

floors, the smoke of the bonfires and a deep and diaphanous rumour of the sea beat inits insides like a faint murmur.

LLETRES del c.d 'DÈRIA'

CANTS DE BATRE . Music: Traditional / E. Navarro. Lyrics: Traditional from Valencia. Arrangements: E. Navarro / Solatge

There was no harder work in the country than that of threshing: once the wheat had been reaped, the grain had to be separated from the straw. One man seated upon the threshing-board, which was drawn by two beasts, went in circles around the threshing floor to crush the unthreshed wheat spread out there. Meanwhile others, armed with pitchforks, winnowed the straw and piled up the grain. To liven up the animal’s trot they sang airs of an unheard-of expressive depth that revealed a curious eastern link.

No plantes vinya en costera, ni sembres blat en barranc, ni et cases amb forastera,  mira que te enganyarà. Cavallers mireu si es pena  que un home tan divertit, en el temps de la faena, està gitat en lo llit. Amb eixos colors de cara  i eixe monyo tan rissat, cada volta que te mire  estic més enamorat.El sol ja se’n va a la posta, les gallines al joquer. Que mal li sabrà al meu amo pagar-me el jornal sencer.Maravilla és tio meu  i en morir-se em deixarà la guitarra i el pandero  i la gràcia pa cantar. Eixa gràcia pa cantar i eixa gràcia pa cantar. Cavallers mireu si es pena 

que un home tan divertit.

Do not plant the vine on a slope nor sow corn in the ravine, nor marry an outsider, for she will surely cheat. Gentlefolk, is it not a shame that such a jolly man should be in bed in the season of labour. With that rosy complexion and your head of curls, each time I look upon youI fall further in love. The sun, at last, is setting, the hens make for the pen. With what reluctance the overseer will pay me the full day’s work. Truly my uncle is a wonder and when he dies he shall leave me his guitar and tambourine and his grace in singing. That grace in singing, that grace in singing. Gentlemen is it not a shame for a man so jolly.Cants de batre

ELS CONTRABANDISTES . Music: Traditional / Josep-Maria Ribelles. Lyrics: Traditional from Catalonia. Arrangements: Josep-Maria Ribelles / Solatge

The wild and harsh terrain of the Pyrenees has raised them up in a country of borders, where control of the passes and of the communication between the two sides is of prime importance. In the shire of El Ripollés there were several possible routes to cross the territorial boundary, thus reaching Vallespir: Along the mountain pass of Ares or that of Malrem travelled the paqueteros who trafficked in dry goods and foodstuffs, in spirits and tobacco in an activity that contributed notably to the meagre local economy. Their adventures have been immortalised in the cancionero and have nurtured the collective imagination with legends.

Quina cançó cantarem que tots la sapiguem, la dels contrabandistes. A Banyuls varen anar a tabac a carregar tota una companyia. En passar per Fortià, però, es varen topar amb la la fomuda espia que a Figueres se-n va anar a contar-ho al capità: “n’he vist contrabandistes!“.-Be, Me-n direu quants n’hi ha, vos que els haveu vistos- -quaranta jo n’he contat que anaven molt ben armats, trabucs i carabines- El capità va cridant: -minyons, au endavant, anem a perseguir-los! I allí on els trobarem baionetes pararem, farem carniceria!-I en passar per Galliners alli ja hi varen ser amb els contrabandistes. Ganivetades i trets, la companyia han desfet, dels braus contrabandistes. En veure tant de diners tots hi varen voler ser a grapats a replegar-ne. 

Ai, cançó qui t’ha dictat?…un que en això s’ha trobat, u gran contrabandista!

What a song we shall sing, so that it be known by us all, that of thesmugglers. / A whole troop they went to Banyuls to load up with tabacco. /Passing through Fortià they came across that damned spy / who went toFigueres to tell the capitan: / “I have seen smugglers” / -”Well, you shalltell me how many they are, you who have seen them”- / -”I have countedforty, and well armed, / blunderbusses and carbines.” / The captain arisesshouting: -”come on lads, let’s give chase! / and we shall lay bet withbayonet and we shall wreak carnage!”- / and upon passing through Galliners,they met there with the smugglers, / stabbings and shots, they have undonethe swaggering smugglers. / Upon seeing so much money they all wished tograb it in handfuls. / Ah song, who was it that told you?…one who foundhimself there,a great smuggler!

ROMANCE DEL MONTAÑÉS / BALH DE GARRÒTS. Music: Traditional / Jota Martínez. Lyrics: Traditional from Aragon. Arrangements: Jota Martínez i Solatge.

The Aragonese ballads descended from the Pyrenees villages of Chazetania, Alto Gálligo and Sobrarbe, towards the plain of los Monegros following the natural livestock and mercantile routes. It was there that this celebrated ballad, also known as “The Ballad of Marichua”, was collected and conserved in the original Aragonese. It seems that it was originally sung on the eve of the celebration Santa Ana . The hero, just as the song itself, comes down from the Pyrenees in search of a wife and settles on the plain. The ballad follows an Aranese “stick dance” melody[1] that was very popular in other Catalonian shires.

[1] Ball de Bastons, a “stick dance”, is a ritual weapon dance still enacted today .

De los altos Pirineosm’en bajé a la tierra planapor cortejarle a una donaque Marichuana se llama. Las mangas de lo gambetome llenaron de manzanas.“Si te quiés casar con yo,piénsatelo Marichuana. Las alhajas que yo tengolas diré en pocas palabras:tengo una sartén sin codaque me la dio la tía Juana, Tengo una olla desansataque me la dio la tía Urbana,y también tengo un espedoque me lo fize de caña”. Preparemos lo bodorriocon toda la parentalla.Y vino el señor rector

con un sombrero de palla; Y luego me preguntósi quería a MarichuanaY también le contestépalabras muy escusatas:que siempre la voy siguiendocomo lo buco a la cabra. Y para cenar pusieronuna poca carne asada,y pusieron unas colesporque a todos nos gustaban. Y estando a mitá de cena sentimos ya la gaitay nos marchemos ta’l bailea bailar cuatro tonadas. Y estando a mitá del baile,lo miembro que se estiraba.Y nos marchemos ta casa,nos echemos enta cama, hicimos un par de alforchiasde cuatro varas de llargas;hicimos uno mocémás hermoso que la plata.Y lo mandemos ta’l mundoa hacer el trica la traca. Con esto y que darte adiós,hermosísima Marichuana,el romance ha terminado.No debiera terminar,en Castejón de Monegrossiempre hubiera de durar.

From the soaring Pyrenees / I came down to the plains / to woo a damsel /by the name of Marichuana. / They filled up the sleeves of my cape / withapples. / “If you wish to wed me, / think upon it well Marichuana. / Thetreasures I posses / I shall list in few words: / I have a handleless pan,/ a gift from my aunt Juana, / I have a handleless pot / a gift from myaunt Urbana, / I also have a rapier / which I fashioned from cane”. / Weprepared the shoddy wedding / with all our relations. / The rector attended/ donning a straw hat; / and later he asked me / if I loved Marichuana /and I also replied / with brief words: / “I am always searching / like theram for the ewe.” / And to dine they set out / a little roast meat, / andalso some cabbage / for we all liked it. / And halfway through the feast /we felt, at last, the bagpipes / and marched off to the dance / to dancefour toccatas. / And halfway through the dance / my member began tostretch. / And we made for home, / we lay down on the bed, / and we made apair of panniers / four bars long; / we made a young lad / fairer thansilver. / And we sent him off into the world / to duck and dive. / Withthis I must bid you farewell, / beautiful Marichuana, / the romance is atan end. / It should not finish, / in Castejón de Monegros / it shouldalways go on.

ROMANÇ DE LA PORQUEROLA. Music: Traditional / Joansa Maravilla. Lyrics: Traditional from Valencia. Arrangements: Joansa Maravilla/ Solatge .

The paths of the romancero -”songbook” spread out with a mysterious elasticity. The ballad of “La Porquerola” was most surely born somewhere in France or Occitania and extended rapidly all over western Europe: Germany, Pielmont, Lombardy, Provence, Catalonia, Valencia, The Balearic Islands... the tale of the swineherdess betrayed by her mother-in-law and redeemed by her husband awoke sympathy in quite distant cultures: a sentimental that transcended both language and borders.

El rei n’ha fetes fer crides, que crides n’ha fetes fer,que tots los mes galants homes a la guerra els ha mester.-"Jo que tenc la muller jove a qui li la deixaré?La deixaré a ca ma mare que la cuidarà molt bé"-. Al cap de les set setmanes, porquerola la va fer,a la redoneta, porquerola la va fer.I al cap de set anys que passen, veu venir un cavaller,la porqueroleta, veu venir un cavaller. -"Déu vos guard, la porquerola"- "Déu vos guard, bon cavaller".--"Dis-me, porquerola, quin hostal hi ha vinent"--"A casa la meua sogra trobareu tot lo mester,te d’allò que agrada per complaure als cavallers"-. -"No em dirieu, hostalera, quin sopar hi trobaré"--"Hi ha gallina a l’olla i carn de moltó també"-.-"Voleu dir-me, hostalera, esta nit amb qui jauré"--"Amb la porquerola que ma filla guardaré"-. -"Fa set anys que en llit no em gite, altres set que n’estaré,a prop la fogada, com si fos un gat cendrer.Si el vostre fill vos sentirà, vos en cuidarieu béset anys no en tinc home, i esta nit tampoc tindré."- L’agafà per la mà blanca i a la cambra la dugué-"tu que no em coneixes, ara jo em descobriréCatalina, catalina, tu n’ets la meua muller"-i la porquerola en sos braços romangué. -"A on son les robes bones que tenies tu primer"--"Les te vostra mare, vostra germana també".--"Si no fóreu mare meua, de vos faria un cendreri vos ventaria en el puig més alt que sé."-

The king has summoned, sent out summons has the king, / that all the mostgallant young men are required for war. / -“I, who have a young wife, towhose care shall I leave her. / I shall leave her at my mother’s where sheshall be well cared for“-. / After seven weeks she reduced her to aswineherdess, / my plump girl was turned into a swineherdess. / Seven yearspassed she sees a knight approach, / the swineherdess sees a knightapproach. / -“May God keep you, swineherdess-”, / ”May God keep you, finesir”- / -”Tell me, swineherdess, where can I find an inn”- / -”At mymother-in-law’s house you shall find all you may need, / there you willfind everything that is pleasing to gentlemen”- / -“Will you not tell me,

madame innkeeper, what I shall find to dine?”- / -“There is chicken in thepot and mutton too“-. / -“Will you not tell me, Madame innkeeper, who Ishall lie with this night.” / -“With the swineherdess, for I shall keep myown daughter.“- / -“Seven years have passed since I slept in a bed, and Ishall spend another seven / by the fireside, as if I were an ashen cat. /If your sons were to hear you, you would take care / I have not had a manin seven years, and neither shall I tonight.“- / He took her by the handand led her to the bedroom / -“You who do not recognise me, now I shallreveal myself / Catalina, Catalina, you are my wife”- / and theswineherdess fell into his arms. / -“Where are the fine clothes that youhad before?”- / -“Your mother has them, your sister too.”- / “-If you werenot my mother, I would turn you to ashes / and I would cast them from thehighest hill that I know“-.

QUATRE TRAGINERS. Music: Traditional / Josep-Maria Ribelles. Lyrics: Traditional from Catalonia. Arrangements: Josep-Maria Ribelles & Solatge.

Footways and paths resounded with the clanking of horseshoes and the creaking of their carts. The muleteers transported both their wares and news, always vulnerable to attacks by highwaymen and other no-goods, sleeping in the open air travelling along impossible routes. The traditional cancionero dedicates a space to regaling their heroic deeds and misadventures, especially in areas of unfriendly landscape and relentless winds. It was in Pallars, in Ripollés, and in Ribagorça, where the Pyrenees passes nurtured rumours and legends, that they sang songs such as this one, distorted with the passage of time yet still tinged with an unsettling aura.  

Quatre traginers que a la riereta porten cascavells.El manto molt llarg, l’aigua se l’enmena riereta avall.Reclamen els sants, els sants i la Verge.  La justícia els pren, els sants i la Verge, la justícia els pren.  I a la mitja nit si els hi anat a veure la Mare de Déu, si els hi anat a veure amb claus a les mans.

Four muleteers / who wear bells to the downpour. / The cloak being verylong, / the water carries it downstream. / They cry out to the saints, / tothe saints and to the virgin. / Justice captures them, / the saints and thevirgin, / justice captures them. / And by midnight / the Mother of God hasvisited them.

BOLERO DE GUADASSUAR / CANCÓ DELS INNOCENTS. Music: Tradictional / E. Navarro. Lyrics: Mara Aranda. Arrangements: E. Navarro . It seems that the bolero, always solemn, refined and theatrical, filtered down from aristocratic parlours to the street to become more or less popular. Illegitimate child of the seguidilla, and often grafted onto the fandango, its attractive manner and beautiful music found their fortune in many Valencian shires, especially in la Costera and la Ribera. The latter, which spreads out towards the sea following the hazardous line of the river Júcar, is the birthplace of the melody of the Bolero of Guadassuar, which was recovered from an old manuscript of sheet music.

En tindria de penai em commouria el plor el qui vullguera no tinc de pedra el cor. I esvolotades amb dures alesles aus que duen les noves,d’una a l’altra torre.I com s’esparverava l’ànima meuaen sentir l’esbartque em portà benaurança. Quan brollaven els planysdel pit d’aquell que jo vaig estimar,m’ofegava en precs callats. I deixa’m si vull plorarperquè és la meua tristor.I els laments que no entengues,deixa’ls, que no són pocs. I si vols pots plorarperquè del teu pesar ningú no en sapi qui sap és perquè ho vol. En teníem somriure de praderiai als monts esguard,tu al brancatge i jo al fullam. I quan ferida de mort me n’estremia,el qui m’estimara, no volia la vida. I amb els ulls resseguia el vol dels corbs,ai gran desestimat, les sagetes van per als dos. No et confie bondatperquè no et vull i mai no t’ho he amagatTu no em vols i el món no es cau. I es un secrets a crits i clams que no ens importa i prou.

I was filled with sorrow / and was moved by the tears / of the one I loved/ for my heart is not made of stone. / And agitated, with hard wings / thebirds carried the young / from one tower to the other. / And what fearstruck my soul / upon hearing the flock / that brought me eternal bliss. /When the groans shed forth / from the chest of my beloved / I was drownedin silent entreaties. / So let me weep, / for it is my sorrow / and lamentsthat you do not comprehend / leave them, for they are not a few. / If youwish you can cry / for nobody knows of your sorrow, / and if anybody doesknow, it is because they wish to. / We had a smile of pastures / and a lookof the mountains. / You in the branches, and I in the leaves. / And so, asI shuddered in the throws of death / my beloved no longer wished to live /and his eyes followed the crow’s flight. / Ay, poor rejected one, there arearrows for us both. / It is no kindness that I confide to you / for I donot love you and have not hidden this from you. / You do not love me andthe world is not at an end. / It is a secret hollered to the four winds /that is of no importance to us and that is it.

NANS DE XÀTIVA. Music: Traditional / E. Navarro. Lyrics: Mara Aranda. Arrangements: E. Navarro.

The Corpus Christi procession portrays baroque celebration in all its splendour: sensual, grandiloquent, excessive, doctrinaire. Its colourful and complex symbols include leafy foliage, livestock, biblical characters, ritual dances, military parades and religious orders, all of which are organised by the strictest hierarchy, is practically indecipherable for the modern eye. The Baile de Cabezudos[2] was, and still is, one of its essential elements. Probably recycled from some pagan ceremony, the cabezudos were incorporated into the procession to symbolise the position of inferiority and compliance held by those who remained infidels in the face of the mystery of the Eucharist. During the procession the cabezudos parade whist enacting a dance that follows the model of the traditional public dances of Valencia . [1] In 1589 the dance of the nanos y gegants (dwarves and giants) was incorporated into the other dances of the Corpus Christi procession of Valencia . [2] Carnival figures with enormous heads that form part of the parade.

Aigua no en beurà ni en voldrà  qui no sap de pou i de poal. Mare bona, bon braç, cura i nafra tot de dolç grat. Poc i agre el vi breu al tast! Fam i fel dels anys que han passat doblegat el llom lluny del pa.  Espiga de l’aire, aire i va.Qui no sap del verd d’olivar, qui no toca terra amb les mans, no comprén rialla ni plor, no gau vida ni tem la mort.Ençà no ho hauran oblidat, i de tant en tant el pesar els sorprén de sobte al cantar les velles tonades dels nans.No ho hauran pogut oblidar. Del pesar han fet un plany calm. Es sorprenen quan al cantar posen veu a l’aire, aire i va.

He who knows nothing of wells nor of ropes / shall not drink water, norshall he wish to. / Good mother, a good arm, / healing and wounding and allpleasing. / Ay, bitter is the wine, and brief the pleasure, / hunger andbitterness from the years that have passed. / Breaking the back, far frombread, / wheat corns of air, air and gone. / He who knows nothing of thegreen of the olive grove, / who does not touch the earth with his hands /understands neither laughter nor tears / he does not enjoy life nor does hefear death. / They will not have forgotten it yet / and once in a whilethey are surprised by their sorrow / upon singing the old airs of thedwarves. / They will not have been able to forget, / they have made agentle mourning of sorrow. / They are surprised when they raise theirvoices / in song to the air, air and gone.

FANDANGO DE LA SERENA. Music: Traditional / E. Navarro. Lyrics: Traditional/ Mara Aranda. Arrangements: E. Navarro

The survival of the Sephardic cancionero is a chilling example of cultural faithfulness and one of the most fascinating enigmas of popular music. The descendants of the Hispanic Jews who arrived in Thessalonica over five hundred years ago still guard over a monumental repertoire from whence this beautiful love song stems. Its verses, still used over melodies from jotas and fandangos throughout the country, conceal some disturbing cultural mysteries: the myth of mermaids, rhetorical formulae inspired by the “Song of Songs”...

En la mar hay una torre, en la torre una ventana, en la ventana una niña que a los marineros llama, que a los marineros mira.En la mar hay una torre.Dame la mano palomba para subir a tu nido. Maldicha que durmes sola, kero subir onde ti.Kero subir a tu nido, dame la mano palomba.Si la mar fuera de leche, los pececicos d’almibar, los barquitos de canela, yo me mancharía entera, por salvar la mi morena. Si la mar fuera de leche.Si la mar fuera de leche y la noche no se hiciera, yo me haría pescador. Pescaría mis dolores con palabricas de amor aunque nunca las pidieras.

In the sea there is a tower / where the blue is dazzling / and at the verytop there is a window / in the window a damsel /who beckons to the sailors. / Close and lock tight. / Give me your hand,dove, / so that I can climb up to your nest. / Cursed in sleeping alone / Iwant to climb up to where you are, / I want to climb up to your nest. /Give me your hand, dove, / if the sea were of milk / and the little fish ofnectar / the little boats of cinnamon / I would dive in to save mydark-haired girl. / If the sea were of milk / and night never fell / Iwould become a fisherman, / I would fish for my sorrows / with little wordsof love / although you never asked for them.

EL JILGUERILLO / AUBADA GENERALA DE VIELHA. Music: Traditional / Jota Martínez. Lyrics: Mara Aranda. Arrangements: Jota Martínez & Solatge.

The melody of “El jilguerillo”[1] also stems from the area Los Monegros. Its original lyrics, written by some parish priest or local scholar, possess a coercive and edifying tone that is far removed from popular aesthetic codes: “Hold back and do not sing little hooded siskin/ Hold back and do not sing nightingale/Cupid will soon come out a hunting/ Keep keep well your nest/ with the little wings of your rigour”. It is followed by the melody from an Aranese aubada, a dance that was enacted in some villages of the Aran valley in honour of the strangers who had come to the party.

[1] The Jilguero, here in the diminutive form, is commonly known as the hooded siskin.

Alilirei alilireta porta al cabell un passador. Alilirei aliloireta mira la nina, va pel pont. Ja voldries que et mirara, que no et girara la cara, no et digués llimeta agra, tarongeta sense suc. Ai de la pena de l’aimador!Alilirei alilireta amb les sinagües pels genolls al davantal diríem cintes, la cinturella alilairó. Ja voldria que em mirares i no em girares les galtes. Escoltar-te dir no tardes, que m’han enganxat les branques estes faldilles que noves són!Alilirei alilireta quan dius que si jo dic que no. Alilirei alilireta quan dius que no tu vens a mi.Si puguera i tu em deixares, si vullgués i me’n fiares, faríem fi a les caminades, mudaria les sabates i festejar-te com Déu si vol.

Alilorei alilireta she wears a hairpin in her hair. / Alilorei aliloireta look at the beauty as she crosses the bridge. / Well you would like her to look at you, not to turn her face away, / not to call you bitter lemon, juiceless orange. / Ay, the sorrow of the lover! /Alilorei alilireta with her petticoats up around her knees, / and what ribbons on her apron, her waist alilairó. / Well I would like you to look at me and not turn your face away / and to hear you say : “ make haste, the branches have tangled up my new skirts!“. / Alilorei alilireta when I say yes you say no. /Alilorei alilireta, when you say yes I say no. / If I could and you would let me, if you wanted to and trusted me, / we would put an end to theserun-arounds, I would change my shoes / to celebrate as is decent.

DANSA DEL VETLATORI. Music: Traditional / E. Navarro. Lyrics: Traditional from Valencia. Arrangements: E. Navarro

In rural Valencian society the death of a child was considered to be a motive for celebration: the child had not yet lost their innocence and so was assured a place in heaven. In accordance with this belief the little creature’s wake became a party where music and dancing were not lacking. The idealisation of this ritual by folkloric groups gave rise to the appearance of several “wake dances”. These were based on the musical structure of some fandangos from the shire la Costera, which were known as “twelve and one”, and symbolised an emotive homage to the deceased child. The poet Toni Mestre would later write verse inspired by the pain of the mother to complete this beautiful piece of popular Neofolklore.

Jo tenia un hort floritde clavells i d’assutzenes,de roses i de gesmilsque em llevaven dols i penes. Cada dia matinet,quan el sol d’orient eixia,saludava al bon matíamb el cor ple d’alegria. Ara només puc plorarllàgrimes de melangia.Un mal vent se m’emportàel clavell que més volia. No hi ha consol per a mi,però una cosa us diria:gràcies amigues i amicsper la vostra companyia.

I had a flowery garden / of carnations and lilies, / of roses and jasmine /which took my joys and sorrows. / I had a flowery garden. / Early everymorning / when the sun rose in the east / I would greet the good morning. /Now I can only weep / tears of melancholy. / An ill wind blew away thecarnation that I loved the most. / Now I can only weep. / There is noconsolation for me / yet one thing I shall tell you / thank you, myfriends, / for your company. / There is no consolation for me.

mara-aranda@hotmail.com . http://www.mara-aranda.com