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Pichardo brings Mexican folk music to the Symphony
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Wednesday Journal of Oak Park and River Forest, Pichardo brings Mexican folk music to the Symphony >>
By Cathryn Wilkinson
As a Mexican-American, Victor Pichardo is quite at home in the village of Oak Park. He likes being close to Chicago, and it's been a great place to raise his family of three musical children. He's lived here for 20 years and made it big as a professional performer. But in truth, Pichardo has another home-one without an address-in any of dozens of obscure Mexican villages where he finds the heart and soul of his music.
For many Americans, the heart of Mexican culture means Cinco de Maya, tacos, guacamole and parties with piñatas and Coronas. But Pichardo knows the real heart of Mexico. The lively traditional music from a simpler, plainer place has been his passport, admitting him to high standing in one of America's great cultural centers and defining his life's work as a creator and performer of indigenous Mexican music.
Instead of May 5, the big celebration coming up for Pichardo is May 4. His work "Alegoría Yaki" will be recognized with the first-ever Walter A. Horban Award for Composition by the Symphony of Oak Park and River Forest. Pichardo's composition was chosen from among many submitted this year, the first time the award has been given. In his career as orchestra librarian for the Chicago Symphony, Walter A. Horban looked at pages and pages of musical scores. He always wanted to commission a new work from a composer. After his death, his wife, who has performed as principal flute with the Symphony of Oak Park and River Forest for 21 years, decided to honor his wish. Her gift will spring to life on Sunday, when she plays Pichardo's music along with the rest of the orchestra.
Pichardo claimed he never realized he could be a composer, making this award the capstone of his career. His break came 10 years ago, thanks to the sharp ear and optimism of Chicago Sinfonietta music director Paul Freeman. Freeman encouraged Pichardo, who was teaching at the Old Town School of Folk Music and playing all over the city at the time, to study orchestration. With 30 years of professional experience and a musical childhood behind him, Pichardo went on to earn a degree in music composition from Columbia College. He remembers that going back to school was "really, really hard work," but it's great work when your heart is in it.
Today he quietly and confidently says, "Yes, I am a composer." With restrained excitement, he admits "getting the Horban award has been an amazing experience. When I was studying ethnomusicology in Mexico City, people like me were the ugly ducklings. But I was inspired by José Pablo Moncayo, who used folk songs from Veracruz in his orchestral music. We have each found a way to bring the music of the people into this classy setting."
Class distinctions aside, the humble music of Mexican folk traditions is a challenge for the professionally-trained players in the symphony. "They are doing really well with the music, but it is hard! I'm asking the piccolo player to imitate a high-pitched reed flute that is typical in indigenous Mexican music. It's a stretch."
Sones de México, a band which Pichardo co-founded with friend Juan Díez in 1994 (performing this Friday at FitzGerald's), has frequently played alongside symphony musicians. But they bring their years of expertise and their traditional Mexican instruments along with them. The band has enjoyed a tremendously popular collaboration this year with Chicago Sinfonietta in a new series at the National Museum of Mexican Art. But without his own band on stage, writing for a symphony is like translating into a different language. Pichardo has attempted to recreate the sound and feel of Mexican folk with modern strings, winds, and brass. But to really capture that style, he had to add a lot of percussion. Sunday's performance will require two extra players to keep the beat.
"Alegoría Yaki," which, loosely translated, is an allegory to celebrate the Yaki culture of northern Mexico, reveals where home really is. Reminiscent of Dvorak's Slavonic dances or Bartok's Romanian dances, each of the four movements in the set is inspired by an ethnic village dance from the Sonora region. "For me, the third movement is the strongest, and the orchestra is really getting it. It is all about the deer, which is sacred to these people and has the power of creating a trance."
With a twist of a smile and studious eyes, Pichardo cuts an unassuming figure in the coffee shop where we met. His soft-spoken voice barely hints at the fame (think NPR and Grammy nominations) he has received or the dynamic career he has pursued since arriving in Chicago, alone and ambitious 20 years ago.
The call came to leave his native home of Mexico City and venture out to work for Urban Gateways, a nonprofit arts education program, which today is one of the most admired in Chicago. Soon Pichardo found himself facing rooms full of school children in the middle of the city. At home with fiddles and guitars and drums and shakers, he hauled in an arsenal of traditional Mexican instruments, most of which had probably never been seen by the ghetto-blaster-toting students. Through the universal language of music, which transcended his limited English in those first years, he communicated the essence of Mexican culture.
Urban Gateways for students proved to be a gateway for Pichardo as well. A connection with a friend led to what has become a long-time partnership with Díez, who today is a playing member and executive director of Sones de México. The six-member ensemble performs on more than 40 different instruments, including conch shells and donkey jaws. This summer they will play in a residency at Lincoln Center.
As for celebrating Cinco de Maya, Pichardo says there are far more important holidays back at home in México, where the more important holiday is Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas). Starting Feb. 2, the festivities run three days and three nights, with the proverbial non-stop dancing, singing, and playing. There are usually two bands in every village, the kind of village where he learned his musical lingo-"battling it out to see who can play better."
On Cinco de Maya, he confesses sheepishly, "I have two gigs that day. I have to go to work." But Pichardo will work at "home"-where his heart is. 04/29/08 >> go there
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