ABSTRACT
Salvador Bacarisse is hardly a household name for those without a specific interest in Spanish music of the twentieth century. He might be known to some as a member of the Grupo de los Ocho, although his name is less often featured in concert programmes and recordings than that of Ernesto Halffter, Rodolfo Halffter or even Julián Bautista. Some might remember his guitar concertino (1952), which, although not as frequently performed as Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez, remains relatively well known among the repertoire of guitar concertos. Bacarisse’s lack of renown is, in some ways, understandable: contemporary Spain does not offer many opportunities to listen to his works live, with the exception of a few chamber concerts and solo recitals organized by niche institutions such as the Fundación Juan March.1 There are not many recordings available of Bacarisse’s music either, although during the last few years a number of them have been featured in recording projects dedicated to bringing to light thus far unrecorded pieces by the Generación del 27, sometimes with the sponsorship of public bodies.2 If we look at the limited dissemination of his music and the fact that he is scarcely known in present-day Spain, we may conclude that Bacarisse’s story exemplifies one of the most tragic faces of displacement, in which the exile finds himself confined to oblivion in his own country, whether because he is actively shunned from concert programmes and histories of music or because displacement has had a profoundly negative influence on his creative practice and has rendered his work uninteresting from a musical point of view.
