Duende by Joe Chindamo

“Duende” is a beautiful word. It is also difficult to define, which adds to its mystery and the elusive qualities of the human (or beyond human) traits the word endeavours to pin down. Coming from southern Spain, “Duende” has only recently migrated to English. Various dictionaries define it collectively as charm, magnetism, inspiration, magic, fire, a ghost, an evil spirit, a goblin, and a demon. My favourite definition is “the quality of passion and inspiration.”

Duende, like art itself, has faces that are both appealing and dangerous. The great Spanish poet, Federico Garcia Lorca famously said, “All the arts are capable of Duende, but where it naturally creates most space, as in music, dance and spoken poetry, the living flesh is needed to interpret them, since they have forms that are born and die, perpetually, and raise
their contours above the precise present.”

Jan Zwicky followed this with a personal interpretation of Duende in the context of contemporary music. “Music is new when it possesses Duende. Black sounds, as Lorca called them. The dark counterpoise to Apollo’s light. Music in which we hear death sing... Duende lives in blue notes, in the break in a singer’s voice, in the scrape of rosined horsehair hitting
sheepgut... We are more accustomed to its presence in jazz, and the blues, and it is typically a feature of music in performance, or music in which performance and composition are not separate acts.” He added, “...music whose newness lies in its Duende will arrest our attention because of its insistence in honouring the death required to make the song....”

Duende is there to challenge us to keep our ears open to the ‘dark sounds,’ to keep our touch with the earth and with the ghosts of those who have come before, to never refuse the struggle which is needed to keep the spirits working on the side of truth.

the romantic project

I owe much to the chairman of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival, Albert Dadon, for the fruition of this project, since it was he, who suggested the concept. Albert asked me to put together something along the lines of my “Paradiso” project, a CD I recorded a few years ago, which featured my take on film music. “The Romantic Project” is quite a departure
from “Paradiso”, as most of the pieces are original, and those which aren’t, are not from the world of cinema. This latest project is perhaps closer to my heart, or more me, so to speak, because I’ve rekindled my connection with musical forms, such as the Tarantella and the Tango, which were prevalent in my childhood. In some ways, I’ve returned to the Tarantella, the Tango and Italian Opera, with that melancholic air one experiences as he or she re-visits (after many years) his or her childhood home. It can never look nor feel the same. As far as my re-acquaintance with these forms is concerned, I’ve only endeavoured to cling to the essence of the music I heard and played as a child, and not style and content.

I had no interest in being authentic (whatever that means), but rather, to bring to it a worldliness that would have been anathema to me in my early years.

There was no initial plan to record this concert for CD release. It was one of four projects I was asked to stage for the 2007 Melbourne Jazz Festival and consequently had my hands full enough (composing, arranging, rehearsing and organising) without needing to complicate matters by adding a recording. Truthfully, I was only going to record the concert on my discman, in order to play for a friend, who couldn’t attend.

It was at the rehearsal (we only had one), a couple of days before the event, that I realised this concert was going to be special; I could really sense it. I also knew it would be a shame to let all this music vaporise into the ether once the audience left the hall and the instruments were safely asleep in their cases. So, I asked sound engineers Chris Corr and Lachlan Wooden to record the concert properly on multitrack. I’m glad I did so, as my premonition was correct. Listening to this music, it makes me sad to think that this recording almost didn’t happen. Everybody was on that Sunday evening. The acoustics were right for the music; the music right for the players, the performance right for the audience and all of it right for the
recording engineers, who captured every nuance beautifully. We all had Duende that day.

Joe Chindamo is a man in a league with the best jazz pianists and composers of the world. An apt composer, arranger and improviser allows Joe to create a style of music across a wide range of musical genres.

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