It seems to be the way of the world that, after a decent period of mourning following their deaths, composers sink into (semi-)oblivion, from which the worthy re-emerge some years later—yesterday's valued object is today's lumber, tomorrow's 'vintage' and the day-after's valuable antique. Thus it was that shortly after his death in 1986 the ubiquitous Antonio Lauro all but disappeared from concert and record programmes. He was a gracious and amiable composer and man, whose music had great charm and rhythmic vitality, and it is good to witness his 'renaissance' in this, the second all-Lauro disc to come to my attention in the past year—the first was by the French guitarist Alain Prevost (Serie Arcobaleno (CD) SBCD5100—not available in the UK).
Lauro's strongest suit was that of the Venezuelan vals, a genre that owes far more to the hemiolas of the renaissance dances that travelled across the Atlantic 500 years ago than to the Viennese ballroom; there are many on this disc. He was a devoted Venezuelan, who seldom (and only when pressed hard) left his homeland, and never happier than when proclaiming it in his music: the Suite Venezolana begins with a ''Registro'', an evocation of a barber's shop in an area where the people are famous for their volubility, and where a guitar usually hangs on the wall for the use of waiting customers; I mention this typically 'domestic' reference because the annotation doesn't. One might describe Lauro as 'the Johann Strauss of Venuzuela', being careful to distinguish between the waltz and the vals, and he is scarcely less winsome. All the better then, that Balbi is such a persuasive player, gifted with all the musical and technical attributes this often deceptively difficult music calls for—and all on open display in this immaculate recording, one I have immensely enjoyed.'