Exploring Music: The Dolls and Toys of a Grown Man

The late, great Arthur Rubinstein had two favorite encores with which to send audiences into final roars of approval: Manuel de Falla's "Ritual Fire Dance" and Heitor Villa-Lobos' "O Polichinelo." To see him rattle through either was a treat in itself (particularly the latter), as Rubinstein's hands became veritable blurs of speed. He had known both composers over many years, played their music inimitably, and helped each to reach appreciative listeners all over the globe.

Villa-Lobos, who is our featured subject here, had other champions, too. The first was avant-garde composer Darius Milhaud, who was attached to the French legation at Rio de Janeiro from 1915-18, when Villalobos was in his 20s. Another was the wonderful Brazilian pianist Guiomar Novaes who, with her husband, composer Octavio Pinto, provided friendship and inspiration during the same period.

As a visitor to the Novaes-Pinto household, Villa-Lobos watched the children at play with their cute ethnic dolls and toys, and became charmed by the personalities, variety, and color of the playthings. In 1918, drawing upon his own rich collections of Brazilian folk tunes, he set out to evoke the spirits of the little dolls through music. The Baby's Family was the result: a suite of eight dazzlingly clever, tiny pieces lasting one or two minutes each. And what a family it is!

There are six girls (a white porcelain European, a tanned Brazilian paper doll, a copper-toned clay Indian, a mocha rubber Mulatto, an ebony Negro, and a poor rag doll), a boy named Polichinelo (Punch), and a cloth witch. They play all over the keyboard, having a great time under the pianist's fingers. Colors, rhythms, and sonorities abound to remind us of the fun children have in imagining their dolls in action.

In 1921, Villa-Lobos fathered another Baby's Family, this one of nine little toy animals: a paper cockroach, a cardboard cat, a papier-mache mouse, a rubber dog, a wooden horse, a lead ox, a cloth bird, a cotton bear, and a glass wolf. Far more of a challenge to the pianist than the previous set, these little beasts run about for two, three, and even four minutes each. It is a menagerie of unbounded energy, depicted through jazz rhythms, tone clusters, complex meters, percussive repetitions, and folk tune fragments-all swirling about to glittering pianistic and, sometimes, guitaristic effect.

When Villa-Lobos followed Milhaud's advice and went to Paris in 1922, he made an initial impact with The Baby's Family1. Rubinstein performed it there and the avant-garde applauded. About that time (or so a famous story goes) when the young, headstrong composer was asked, "With whom do you plan to study?," he answered, "You are going to study me!"

Always a rugged individualist, Villa Lohos disdained academic musical training. did things his own way and became a folk hero in his native land. After learning the basics of the cello from his father, the young genius picked up the guilar, saxophone, piano, and other instruments quite readily (if with unconventional technique), played popular music in Rio's street bands, traveled extensively throughout Brazil over a seven-year period from 1905-12, soaked up his country's Afro-Indian and Portuguese folk music, and ultimately produced scintillating pieces such as these in every imaginable format. When he died in 1959 at age 72, Villa-Lobos (and his musical helpmates) had made Brazilian nationalism an international success.

With Rubinstein and Novaes no longer with us, Villa-Lobos' early piano works have found a new champion in the talented Ms. Krimsky. She seems to enjoy displaying the novel charms of these little dolls and toys--and enjoyment is what we get when we hear the recording.

The late, great Arthur Rubinstein had two favorite encores with which to send audiences into final roars of approval: Manuel de Falla's "Ritual Fire Dance" and Heitor Villa-Lobos' "O Polichinelo." To see him rattle through either was a treat in itself (particularly the latter), as Rubinstein's hands became veritable blurs of speed. He had known both composers over many years, played their music inimitably, and helped each to reach appreciative listeners all over the globe.

Villa-Lobos, who is our featured subject here, had other champions, too. The first was avant-garde composer Darius Milhaud, who was attached to the French legation at Rio de Janeiro from 1915-18, when Villalobos was in his 20s. Another was the wonderful Brazilian pianist Guiomar Novaes who, with her husband, composer Octavio Pinto, provided friendship and inspiration during the same period.

As a visitor to the Novaes-Pinto household, Villa-Lobos watched the children at play with their cute ethnic dolls and toys, and became charmed by the personalities, variety, and color of the playthings. In 1918, drawing upon his own rich collections of Brazilian folk tunes, he set out to evoke the spirits of the little dolls through music. The Baby's Family was the result: a suite of eight dazzlingly clever, tiny pieces lasting one or two minutes each. And what a family it is!

There are six girls (a white porcelain European, a tanned Brazilian paper doll, a copper-toned clay Indian, a mocha rubber Mulatto, an ebony Negro, and a poor rag doll), a boy named Polichinelo (Punch), and a cloth witch. They play all over the keyboard, having a great time under the pianist's fingers. Colors, rhythms, and sonorities abound to remind us of the fun children have in imagining their dolls in action.

In 1921, Villa-Lobos fathered another Baby's Family, this one of nine little toy animals: a paper cockroach, a cardboard cat, a papier-mache mouse, a rubber dog, a wooden horse, a lead ox, a cloth bird, a cotton bear, and a glass wolf. Far more of a challenge to the pianist than the previous set, these little beasts run about for two, three, and even four minutes each. It is a menagerie of unbounded energy, depicted through jazz rhythms, tone clusters, complex meters, percussive repetitions, and folk tune fragments-all swirling about to glittering pianistic and, sometimes, guitaristic effect.

When Villa-Lobos followed Milhaud's advice and went to Paris in 1922, he made an initial impact with The Baby's Family1. Rubinstein performed it there and the avant-garde applauded. About that time (or so a famous story goes) when the young, headstrong composer was asked, "With whom do you plan to study?," he answered, "You are going to study me!"

Always a rugged individualist, Villa Lohos disdained academic musical training. did things his own way and became a folk hero in his native land. After learning the basics of the cello from his father, the young genius picked up the guilar, saxophone, piano, and other instruments quite readily (if with unconventional technique), played popular music in Rio's street bands, traveled extensively throughout Brazil over a seven-year period from 1905-12, soaked up his country's Afro-Indian and Portuguese folk music, and ultimately produced scintillating pieces such as these in every imaginable format. When he died in 1959 at age 72, Villa-Lobos (and his musical helpmates) had made Brazilian nationalism an international success.

With Rubinstein and Novaes no longer with us, Villa-Lobos' early piano works have found a new champion in the talented Ms. Krimsky. She seems to enjoy displaying the novel charms of these little dolls and toys--and enjoyment is what we get when we hear the recording.