Adrian's thoughtful essay, Flamenco and Decadence, again raises the subject of duende. I begin here with a long quote from Claus Schreiner's introductory chapter to the book Flamenco: Gypsy Dance and Music from Andalusia, Amadeus Press,1990, p.26--
"Even so articulate a flamenco artist as Juan F. Talegas was only able to give his questioner this unsatisfying answer when queried about duende: 'Nonsense!' Where did you foreigners ever get this idea of duende? From Garcia Lorca maybe? Duende, it's like a fever, like malaria. I had the duende only twice in my life, but afterwards they had to carry me out.' (Flamenco Studio, July, 1972).
"Duende has been called the demon that puts flamencos in a trance. But the very nature of cante jondo contradicts all trance theories. We know, for instance, from trance states induced by mediums in Afro-American culture, that a stammered singsong may be possible, but certainly not the intellectual-emotional exertion of body and soul required by cante jondo.
".....Bernhard-Friedrich Schulze has advanced a theory about duende which I find extremely useful. Duende, he says, is the agreement between an inner hearing and external sound. When what the cantaor feels in his soul and has translated into song in his inner ear, is identical with what is actually sung, he is overwhelmed with a feeling of achievement akin to a state of ecstasy. The same can be said of baile and toque artists. Artists in other genres have described nearly identical experiences. Schulze's views closely parallel Donn E. Pohren's, namely that virtuosity alone does not make a flamenco artist: 'but it is imperative that he have the ability to identify with the duende, who is life-giving, and to impart this emotion or set of emotions to his public.' (Pohren, El Arte de Flamenco)."
Thus writes Schreiner. I ask, is there a danger that the term duende has served only to mystify, rather than to clarify, the reactions that people have to a particularly "moving" piece of music?? I think almost everyone understands the phenomenon of "chills; gooseflesh" upon hearing certain pieces of music, or upon reading particular passages in books (though it has been reported that only about 50% of the population experiences these reactions). Some of this reaction may be purely a response to what Adrian calls the "excitatory" content of music--an example from another music might be the chills some get (I do) when listening to the final, whirlwind conclusion of Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No.3.
Something beyond the purely excitatory might then combine powerful, doleful lyrics to already emotionally rich music, such that we combine both chills and pathos--Jefferson Airplane's version of Wooden Ships would fall into this category.
Another category would then combine chill-inducing music with powerful lyrics, and then add a voice that itself trembles or quivers or radiates powerful and only partially-contained emotion--the siguiriyas of Terremoto or of Manuel Torres, for example. Even if the lyrics are not accessible to the listener, the conviction of the singer is manifest, and the power of the phenomenon is expressed.
What I'm attempting to do here is to talk about the emotive power of certain types of music, or certain moments in music, without recourse to the term "duende" but rather to get to mutual understanding of emotional response to music through shared experiences discussed in plain language. We can all probably offer short lists of moments that, for each, are musically sublime, whether it be in cante, classical music, rock, folk, in order to illustrate our points.
Finally, let's not forget that Edmund Burke discussed much of this ground in his 1757 A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful.
Carlos
