4. Albeniz

4.1 Biography

4.2 Albéniz personality in his works

As Walter A. Clark (2002) rightly says, Albéniz was a genuine product of the romantic period of the 19th century. From his childhood he skillfully developed a facility for both spoken and written words, in the form of diaries. This communication ability is his forte throughout his life, but let's learn more about his character through the testimonials of those who knew him. All of them agree in emphasizing his kind, loquacious, generous, affectionate nature and radiant personality.

The composer Paul Dukas (1864-1835), belonging to his circle of Parisian friends, describes him as "A Don Quixote in the manner of Sancho Panza."1

His friend and student at the Schola Cantorum, Déodat de Séverac (1872-1921), who completed Albéniz's Navarre, writes: “He had such a lot of love in him that his own music is the most sociable there is!.”2

Pedrell: “He was what is called a good boy, good-natured, jovial, talkative like few others. [...] He was satisfied with life, full of good humor to laugh at bitterness..."3

This is how the pianist Arthur Rubinstein narrates his first meeting with Albéniz in 1904:

“I still seem to be seeing that great room presided over by two grand pianos, and the wide windows open to the popular and agitated joy of the boulevards. There used to be Maurice Ravel, Paul Dukas, Vicent d ́Indy, Édouard Colonne and... a very happy fat Spaniard. I knew little else about him then: that he was really fat and that he told hilarious stories and jokes that delighted and delighted all those present. He supposed it must be a representative or something like that and he laughed out loud at all his jokes.”4

Joseph Marliave5 offers the following description:

“Enthusiastic, ardent, exuberant, he was nothing more than kindness, charity, love, he possessed that ardent joy of the soul that only the total renunciation of oneself gives; he forgot ingratitude, he ignored hatred, he was always ready to devote himself to an idea or a person. One could cite his admirable traits of dedication and delicacy... Cheerful, full of good humor, in the midst of trials and injustices, always optimistic and smiling: even during gloomy days. Nothing discouraged him, not life, not his struggles. His generous soul radiated around him, it was comforting, and it was not possible to get close to him without wanting it: It is with Liszt, whom he resembles in more than one trait, the most beautiful character of man and artist that the musical 19th century has ever seen produced.”6

He possessed, then, a great sense of humor; He used to sign his letters as “El Gordo”, “El Saco” or “Saco Gordo”, “Saquito” playing with the last syllable of his name: Isaac.7

His friend Enrique García Arbós8, with whom he met during his studies in Brussels and with whom he shared the stage countless times, describes him like this:

“He always liked to evoke the rural life of the Spanish peasant: he boasted of bucolic idealism and, although I never heard him make special mention of Catalonia, in those moments of exaltation he turned his eyes to his homeland: the butifarras, the Vich sausage, strong foods , healthy pleasures of simple people... His stomach never lived up to these fantasies, as it was in poor health since childhood, but this he ignores. He would arrive at his seat with a large sausage and a bottle of gin, cut his good slices, after which he drank generous drinks, to be in agreement with the primitive and country painting that he liked so much.”9

Regarding his somewhat resolute and daring facet, he himself defines himself in his letters as follows: "with the very little shame that characterizes me."10

For this reason, it is not surprising the impudence with which he lies to the press, or when it comes to selling the same pieces with different names to different publishers.

But what his friends and acquaintances praised most was his great soul and humanity. “The kindness and generosity of the man were second to none,” says Georges Jean Aubry11.12 

Almost everyone who knew him agrees that he was always generous. His house is remembered as "a refuge of hospitality and warmth for young artists who came from Spain and found themselves in trouble"13, as the writer Josep Pla14 tells.

He was always willing to come to the aid of those young artists, composers and musicians. And he not only contributed financially, his help was valuable in many fields. To give some examples: he collaborated in the organization of countless concerts with his friends; he interceded with publishers so that they publish works by Joaquín Turina and Enrique Granados; he obtained for Fauré the title of knight of the Royal Order of Isabel la Católica.

Alfonso Camín15 (1951) offers a testimony that is very much in line with the romantic ideals. Once again, this fervor for the oriental is observed here, which is not only expressed in the works but also in his image. 

“Albéniz prided himself on having brave blood and the soul of a Moor. Already in maturity, his portrait with his close black beard in the style of Luis Morote, his curly night hair, his firm character, his wide and black eyebrows, his fixed and sensual gaze, his wide forehead, tower of thought, fantasy traffic light ; all this will give him the appearance of a caliph who walks through Paris his oriental splendor.”16 

Albéniz wrote at least eleven works with Islamic titles or inspiration:

- Arab Serenade (1885)

- Suite Morisca (lost)

-Marcha de la caravana

-La noche

-Danza de las esclavas

-Zambra

- En la Alhambra (from Recuerdos de viaje)

- Torre Bermeja (from Doce piezas características 1888)

- Zambra granadina (1891)

- Orientale, and Sous le palmier (from Chants d´Espagne)

- La Alhambra: Suite for piano (not composed, of which only La Vega has remained)

- Azulejos, which E. Granados concluded at the wish of Rosina.

About Albéniz as a pianist:

The main reviews on Albéniz's interpretive art are the criticisms of the English press during his tour of the Anglo-Saxon country. These are some of the characteristics of his playing taken from Clark, (2002):

- "The charming way in which he performs works by Scarlatti and other masters of refinement" Daily Telegraph (October 24, 1889).

- "The velvety softness of the touch and the cadences reduced almost to a whisper - and yet audible throughout the room - will have amazed and admired - and also despaired - the amateur pianists who were present" Rochdale Observe (January 22, 1890).

- "Delicate taste, refined reading and exquisite execution" Trade & Finance (June 19, 1889).

-The Times remarks "the strange ability to produce the full sound of his instrument without resorting to violence of any kind and without ever exceeding the limits of acoustic beauty" The Times (June 10, 1890).

-German critics, on the other hand, found his art too refined and "Frenchified". A reviewer for the Volks Zeitung described his music as “lacking the hot blood of a Southerner" (Volks Zeitung March 4, 1892).

Walter A. Clark notes that, in the foreword to Laplane's biography, Francis Poulenc writes that “whenever a Spanish pianist performed in Paris there was always someone who accused him of being cold and giving a lifeless performance.”17

The same epithets with which his piano playing is praised also characterized many of his compositions. 

There are various testimonies and descriptions, criticisms and opinions that his contemporaries made of his works. One of the most used is spontaneity and intuition:

“Albéniz was above all an instinctive and spontaneous musician. He is, with Chopin, the most beautiful example of that type of marvelously gifted artist, who has hardly anything to learn, possesses an innate talent for artistic matters, and who writes in a completely impulsive manner.”18

It seems that intuition has been at odds with acquired knowledge for some time:

“Albéniz's technique may not yet be perfect, it is better than perfect, it is alive, and its few imperfections disappear before his masterful qualities: The defects are due to the lack of initial musical education; qualities are the manifestation of a true genius. The defects, let's say it right away, are: the abuse of pedals, the slightly sloppy development, the discolored harmonic progressions, the useless virtuosity. The qualities are: an extremely modulating life, which manifests itself in a truly unique flexibility, a throbbing harmony of original life, whose richness is enhanced by a successful and discreet use of ancient tones, an extraordinary realization fantasy, a fun tonal improvisation, a yet unknown rhythmic fire and ardor, an adorable melodic tenderness.”19 

It should be noted that this opinion has now become quite outdated. I would even go so far as to say that it contradicts itself. What is indeed a sad truth is that Albéniz's compositional style has traditionally been accused of a certain weakness and even lack of technique. Such claims have no basis of any kind. I do not know why for a period his works were criticized in this way, because I have not found any factor that indicates this. On the contrary, his operas demonstrate a perfect command of the technique. In any case, it is clear that the origin of many of the criticisms of his stage works were envy and rejection of the new. 

Here's one of those reviews:

“All his ideas are "thought" for the piano. This explains the relative weakness of his orchestral compositions: transplanted from the piano to an element that is foreign to him, his first conception loses its strength and character; a continuous disparity is produced which impairs the general effect of the work.”20 

We know that Albéniz began working with Pedrell in 1883; by then he had already studied in Leipzig (two months) and at the Royal Conservatoire of Brussels (1877-1879).

Later W. S. Newman describes as “irreproachable”“the skill in harmony” of Albéniz's piano sonatas composed in 1886-1887, just a few years after taking lessons with Pedrell21. If they had actually been “friendly conversations”, Albéniz must have already possessed an excellent technique for composing.

Despite everything, Albéniz was somewhat insecure about his compositional ability, at least at first. Which led him to an insatiable search to calm his appetite of wisdom. He was not a person who drank from a single source of knowledge, but rather he was learning from how many musicians crossed his path. He often consulted his friends about his work and even asked for corrections.

During his stay at Schola Cantorum he took counterpoint classes, the result of that insatiable need for training. It is evident that in all composers (more in those who have lived longer) an evolution is observed throughout their works. In Albéniz this is more than palpable, since his life and his ambitions are reflected throughout his works. Before anything else, he was a pianist, and he found his first instrument of expression on the piano. His first works are living room pieces that were very much in the taste of the time, and later his collections of Hispanic-style pieces. 

But Albéniz, despite everything, wanted to and considered himself an opera composer.

To avoid a possible rejection of his music in Europe, Albéniz invents all those fantasies about his training. Let's say that he prevents any criticism, first for being a foreigner and second for being Spanish. So he does not hesitate, for example, to multiply his stay in Leipzig, since a solid formation inGermany was of absolute prestige in the eyes of the English.

Tired of not finding support from businessmen, directors, etc., he retired to compose for his favorite instrument: the piano. And he composes Iberia. But his language has been enriched during the years that he worked on operas. It is observed in its counterpoint, its textures and even the volume that it demands from the piano, typical of an orchestra. His vision (or rather, his acoustic ideal) is now orchestral. Sometimes it seems that the conventional expression signs are not enough to capture his ideas with them: the fortissimo or the pianissimo seems insufficient to him with ff or pp, so he adds more until he reaches 5 ppppp or fffff.

Clark (2002) reminds us that Albéniz has a clear tendency to exaggerate. The exaggerations that he proposes in his stories and anecdotes are reflected in his work as well, and he expresses himself with music as well as in writing. For example, in a letter to his wife, he writes “that his intestines are in their usual state of rebellion, and that there is terrible diarrhea!!!!!!! I was causing him great suffering” with seven exclamation points. On another occasion, referring to an orchestra of young ladies who played worse and worse, he says it was horrible, with ten R's.

No type of convention could stop his expressiveness.

4.3 Albéniz and French modernism. Impressionism.

The city of Paris, the capital of artistic bohemia at the end of the 19th century, contributed more to Albéniz than we might suppose. Albéniz began to live in Paris in 1894. The Schola Cantorum was founded that same year and began to function in 1896 with the mission of promoting religious music and Gregorian chant. Researcher W.A. Clark (2002) reveals, based on a notebook kept in the Barcelona Municipal Library, that Albéniz is fully immersed in the study of the music of the composer Palestrina. In 1896 he enrolled to study counterpoint with Vicent d ́Indy22 and this knowledge of counterpoint would enrich his later works. In 1897 he began working as a teacher at the same Schola Cantorum.

As a result of the concerts he gave in the French capital in 1889, Albéniz had kept contacts there, including composer Ernest Chausson (1855-1899), his wife, and the Princesse de Polignac23, in whose salons he used to improvise at evenings. There he met Ravel, Massenet and Pierre Louÿs, on whose novel he agreed to write a ballet, although nothing more is known about this because Louÿs fell ill. Likewise, he used to be a regular collaborator giving concerts at the Société Nationale de Musique. In his circle of friends there was Gabriel Fauré (whom he revered), Ernest Chausson, and Paul Dukas (with whom he maintained a close friendship). During his stay in Paris, he also met Erik Satie, and attended the premieres of Debussy's Prelude to a Faun's Siesta (1894) and Pelleas et Melisande (1902).

The relationship with this circle of French artists was reflected in the writings of Paul Gilson (1917):

“Years passed. I occasionally heard that Albéniz was making his way with Franck's disciples, who constituted a kind of musical aristocracy in Paris. They were not numerous. All, or almost all, possessed a great fortune, and professed extreme disdain for the vulgum pecus who had not followed the teachings of the Pater Seraphicus. Despite their amateur character, they were definitely talented people: the works they have left behind are testimony to this. Vincent d ́Indy, true viscount, even had a certain genius.

Albéniz was among them, a bit like their adopted son; friendly and smiling, his extravagances and wandering aesthetics were forgiven. He was loved because he kindly apologized - and humbly! - for his intrusion into the upper room, with whose seriousness his capricious personality would have had, apparently, to accommodate quite badly.”24 

This view, however, has some highly questionable claims. Obviously trying to frame Albéniz as an amateur within this group is out of place. Regarding his wandering aesthetics, I want to assume that he was not referring to the aesthetics of his work...

Yes, the expression is quite significant: as his adopted son, because although with characters like Fauré, Albéniz established a close and true friendship, there is a certain attitude in him of wanting to win over the group.

This is also suggested by Clark (2002) based on the episode that I refer to above. Albéniz collaborated with the music publisher Breitkopt und Härtel in Leipzig, and on one of his trips to the German city he tried to convince the publishers to publish Chausson's Poème for violin and orchestra. Faced with their refusal, who described the work as bizarre, Albéniz offered to pay for the publication himself, but begging that this be kept secret. On his return, Chausson (who on the other hand could have personally covered the expenses, since he had a greater fortune than the Spaniard) was delighted. Albéniz's response was "I am a gentleman of some importance!."25

Some authors cite this anecdote as proof of Albéniz's generous character, but it can also be seen from another perspective. The Spanish composer was extremely interested in appearing to be an influential man before this group. The truth is that the Catalan author is surrounded by the French avant-garde and this is felt in his music as he develops a more sophisticated style.

At Albéniz, all topics are combined. He meets all the conditions of the romantic artist: the child prodigy, the traveler, the bohemian and cosmopolitan artist, the passionate and temperamental Spaniard... he allows himself to be influenced by French modernism, by its refinement. There is something impressionistic about him. Although this relationship is one of total antagonism, since he himself admits on many occasions that he rejects French modernism.

In a letter to Rosina on March 24, 1897, he writes:

“The truth is, that this encourages and convinces me of the essential need to leave Paris and its infected artistic atmosphere; But isn't Brussels also beginning to be contaminated by the same miasmas?”26

But it is difficult for a person who lives and works wrapped in the atmosphere of an artistic movement to escape its influences. Like it or not, Albéniz cannot escape the aesthetic novelties of Fin du siècle France27.

The painter Rusiñol, who coincides with him in France in this period, acknowledges:

“We were impressionists despite ourselves. I also belong to that delicate and very modest realization in matters of sentiment, which that current prescribed. Albéniz was one with an irrevocable tendency. In our youth we struggled to get rid of that inclination, shaken by an aesthetic that did not consent to the limitation of that graceful and inconsequential flight. Wagner did us a lot of damage. It upset our spirit, leaving in it an uneasy turmoil. We hardly dared to face our own sincerity. And we were Wagnerians with ruthless self-cannibalism... Albéniz was saved by his forced uprooting from Spain. He had a highly developed emotional imagination that prodigiously drew Spanish evocations which they were the ones that flooded him with Hispanic suggestions and motifs...Yes, we were impressionists and we could not escape from that dimension, nor should we...An entire impressionist environment favored his temperament and gave him wings for a flight through the Iberian area like the one he began in his last period.”28 

There is another episode lived in Paris by Joaquin Turina. It comes to portray the musical aesthetics of Paris at the end of the century. I summarize it here:

“Back in the year 1907 I was listening to a concert by the Parent quartet, at the Aeolian Hall in Paris, when two gentlemen who spoke Spanish sat next to me. Naturally, I paid attention to what they were saying. Parent and his colleagues were opening a modernist quartet that night with horrendous dissonances. 《How bad this sounds! -said one of my neighbors- and what do you want? - replied the other- These things are in fashion now and I myself am writing a series of pieces in which I use the same procedures》. It was Albéniz, who was talking about his series of pieces titled Iberia.”29

Turina goes on to tell us how he met Albéniz, and how he premiered a piano quintet following the aesthetic guidelines of the Schola Cantorum and César Franck. Albéniz interceded for that quintet to be released, but first he made Turina promise that he would not compose any more Franckian music, but that he should write music based on Andalusian popular music.

Francisco de Paula Valladar reminds that European critics called Albéniz the Spanish Debussy, due to the peculiar way of melodic, rhythmic and harmonic development of his pieces30. 

Claude Debussy had seen the Spaniard perform in a concert in 1889 in the Sala Erard, where he performed, among others, the work Torres Bermejas. The concert was also attended by other musicians such as Ravel, Fauré, Dukas and Widor. Everyone was enthusiastic about the way and the facility that Albéniz had to evoke the sound of the guitar31.

Clark (2002) reports that Enrique Granados visited Albéniz on his deathbed and there he read him a letter from Debussy in which he informed that under his recommendation and that of Fauré, Dukas and d ́Indy the French government granted Albéniz the Cross of the Legion of Honor.

In reality it was reciprocal admiration for each other that of these authors. But it must be recognized that Albéniz was extremely exasperated by the comparisons with the French composer. 

Albéniz was a painter of sound. He developed the love for painting from a very young age, an art that it seems he also practiced. This is demonstrated by the anecdote collected in his Impressions and travel diaries, where he tells that while he was in Budapest, since his father's money did not arrive, to distract himself while he waited, he went to Buda to paint32. Albéniz and Zuloaga33 and other painters also coincided in Granada in meetings at the Polinario house. Later, his greatest color tones will be achieved in his music:

“What I have composed is all that Granada plain contemplated from the Alhambra. The green plain, with its crops and its “immense billiard tables”, as Rubén says. The other afternoon I made Ignacio Zuloaga hear the work. He told me that he had found the color of the sky, which has a bit of the Mohammedan sky. I understand your enthusiasm for color. As you can see, I am not a painter and I paint, but my brushes are the keys.”34

Joseph de Marliave also talks about his works referring to them as musical painting for piano. Paul Dukas names Albéniz as a "landscape artist with a superb palette". Albéniz's originality lies in his impressionist mentality, according to which painters did not paint a storm but the impression it caused... His compositions were not based on specific folklore melodies. They were not mere transcriptions, but rather he collected the essence of folklore and from there his very personal compositions arose. This mentality can already be seen in his early works, long before he left for France, so it is not convenient to say that Impressionism had a decisive influence on him. Rather, I would say that, with his aesthetic ideals, he fit in better with this movement, and he felt more comfortable and identified with this creative current. In this sense he was an absolute pioneer.

In his biography on Albéniz, Laplane (1956) affirms that Albéniz has no immediate predecessor, but that Spain was absent from international musical life until he appeared. According to this author, Albéniz would be the first Spanish composer to make national music, as the result of a personal re-invention or re-creation of the musical elements that popular culture offered him, and not as a cut and paste of popular motifs. These elements had been absorbing and assimilating as part of his being, thanks to his experiences throughout life. This is the suggestive power of his music (which awakens in the listener impressions of his previous experiences) without the need for banal imitations.

4.4 Albeniz and flamenco

One of the first questions that popped up in my head was how Albeniz grew such a passion about flamenco since he was not from Andalucia but from Catalonia. Could Albéniz have contact with the original and authentic flamenco? And if so, how and where could he get to it? Of all, the love and dedication that Manuel de Falla had for this art is abundant and his organization of the Cante Jondo Contest35 in Granada is also well known. But after all, Falla is Andalusian and lived in Andalusia for a long time. About Albéniz, a native of Catalonia, there is not much information that he lived in Andalusia except for the couple of concerts he gave in the south. Why did Albéniz feel so Andalusian? Why this passion for Andalusia? These concerts offer the first clue. Most of the pieces he composed were Andalusian-themed.

In 1872 the young Isaac offered a concert for the first time in Granada. According to what Giménez Miranda informs, during that time he became friends with Cándido Peña from Granada and when he returned to the city in July 1881 he stayed at his house.

Some distinguished Granada families fond of good music and attracted by the artist's celebrity went to the people with whom he had established friendly relations to get the musician to offer private auditions at the homes of such families. Thus, on July 11 of that year, at the Casa de Tiros, which Lino del Villar lived at the time, his nephew Eduardo Soria, a musicologist from Granada, organized a piano recital in which Albéniz performed works by Weber, Bach, Mendelssohn and Chopin36.

That same night, Albéniz visited Rafael Contreras, conservator and ornamental restorer of the Alhambra, who lived precisely in the building next to the Puerta del Vino37.

The Contreras dedicated themselves, with the best of intentions, to returning the building to its glorious past, however, based on the oriental taste of the time, they gave it an appearance that it never really had. He was precisely the one who will guide an Albéniz ecstatic by Nasrid art throughout the Alhambra during his stay in Granada, sharing with him the history and art of the monument.

The point is, that same night he goes to that house where a small circle of close friends of the Contreras are (among whom is the father of Luis Seco Lucena and Francisco de Paula Valladar38) and right there he meets Lina (Eugenia) Contreras, the elegant and beautiful daughter of Rafael Contreras, with whom he falls in love. As a result of this, and the success that his concert aroused among those present, he promised to compose an opera whose plot was inspired by the Islamic history of Granada. At the end of this project nothing was known, but Francisco de Paula Valladar tells that he heard Albéniz at the Contreras' house improvising a melody that later took shape in his piece Granada39. 

About his stay in the city, Albéniz writes in a letter: "I cannot describe my stay in this land of dreams except by composing40." And so he did. Without a doubt, Granada is a constant in his compositions. At least eight pieces make direct reference to the city:

-Torres Bermejas 1886

-En la Alhambra de Recuerdos de Viaje 1886-7

-Granada or Serenade 1891

-Zambra granadina 1891

-La Vega 1897

-El Albaicín 1906

Albéniz loved this city. He said that Granada was "the treasurer of Andalusian music41." And he demonstrates it both composing and in his letters:

And adds:

“I live and write a romantic serenade to the point of paroxysm and sad to the point of despair, among the aroma of flowers, the shadows of the cypresses and the snow of the Sierra. I am not going to compose the drunkenness of the collective revelry: now I am looking for tradition, which is a gold mine... The guzla (Arabic string instrument) lazily dragging my fingers over the strings. And above all an out of tune and heartbreaking lament... I want the Arab Granada, the one that is all art, the one that all seems to me to be beauty and emotion and the one that can say to Catalonia: Be my sister in art and my equal in beauty42.”

“It is necessary that I naturalize Granada in Catalonia... I believe that Granada, where I am, is the treasure of Andalusian music. I also believe that I should write this and I am convinced that my youth is full of musical experience to launch me into the conquest of this marvelous land in which there is exquisiteness, cordiality and love, but all of it kept as the Arabs keep the flowers in their garden and the women of his palaces43.” 

With the description of his piece Granada, which he initially titled Serenade, he gives the first clue:

“It will be a little romantic and impractical, but what can we do! I was tempted to put spiritual recollection as a subtitle. I would undoubtedly have been called pretentious. Let's leave it in serenade and move away from the vision that many have of Granada, contemplating it through bailaoras who expand the wide starched flare of the long train of their batiste dress on the stage.

Granada is not that, my friend Moragas, and the Granada that I intend to make known to my countrymen, the Catalans, should be quite the opposite at this time44.” 

To my question, where and how was Albéniz able to come into contact with the flamenco music of the moment? The answer is: it was in Granada, and it was in the Taberna of Antonio Barrios Tamayo el Polinario, father of the famous Ángel Barrios45 from Granada, located on Calle Real de la Alhambra, where the house was installed over some Arab baths. That street was the preferred lodging place for educated travelers, surrounded by cármenes and guitar shops. Like the Manuel Carmona Pension, converted from a villa into a pension with views of the Partal and Generalife gardens. Manuel de Falla, Washington Irving and Isaac Albéniz would stay there:

"The truth is that the place, that Calle Real, had a certain charm, not only because of the musicality of the streams and the underground waters, but also because of the pianos in the pensions and villas, as well as the strumming of the "temper" of the instruments of the excellent guitar players of the neighborhood46.” 

4.5 Albéniz’s legacy

Albéniz opened the window to the outside, reestablishing communication between the watertight compartment in which the Spanish music scene swam47, and the rest of the musical life of Europe. Laplane (1956) points out how opportune and fortunate this performance was for the musical future of Spain, since Spanish musical creative activity revolved around a single genre that, although born with laudable intentions, later obstructed other music trends. This was: the Zarzuela.

Albéniz's musical creation had to swim against a trend that irradiated insufficiencies, careless scripts, ridiculous sentimental effects, and wild improvisations, which could not at all satisfy the spirit of a cosmopolitan artist with certain ambitions.

In this sense, Albéniz was never content with a certain level of mediocre quality. As he wrote in his diary, "I was born for extraordinary things48."Whether this was a premonition, or simply a purpose or philosophy of life, he carried it out constantly. He was looking for the most difficult yet. Unlike his contemporaries Sarasate, Tárrega, etc., who also began a career as a virtuoso composer and instrumentalist, Albéniz went beyond salon music, in which they had settled.

Obviously, this spirit that guides the artist's work has its positive consequences, and although the work of art is influenced by what surrounds it, the same thing happens in the opposite direction. Everything that surrounded Albéniz was impregnated with his personality, charisma and works. Joaquín Turina, left a clear testimony of what a personality like Albéniz's meant for the future of Spanish music:

“In the fall of 1907, in a pastry shop on rue Royale in Paris. Albéniz performs the mission of an apostle there before Manuel de Falla and before me, and encourages us to leave all foreign influences (background influences, that is) to follow him in his task of making purely Spanish music. There is no doubt that that meeting was decisive, but what idea did Albéniz have and rushing a lot, Falla and I, of what it meant to make Spanish music?49”

Although this question that Turina poses is a bit exaggerated, because today we know well that Albéniz did have an idea of making Spanish music and a lot of it. Albéniz's influence on the Sevillian's music was decisive, as he himself admits. Let’s recall the episode of the quintet, according to which Albéniz makes Turina promise that he would not compose any more music “in the manner of Cesar Franck”, but that he should “base his art on popular Spanish or Andalusian singing”. That was the line he followed in his music. “Words that were decisive for me; advice that I have tried to follow throughout my career, and that I have always offered to the memory of that brilliant and unique man50.”

Undoubtedly, Turina was the author where the Albenician influence is most directly observed, from the similarity of the poetic and evocative titles, about places in Andalucia, to the constant use of features of popular music, including many popular melodies interwoven in his pieces. The popular quote in Turina is very direct at first, but later its language is defined.

Manuel de Falla, younger than Albéniz, took a line parallel to Albéniz, but with a time lag. He was also in France, in Paris letting himself be inundated by French modernity and also popular music is the basis of his work. If there is Albenician influence, in this case there is thought. Falla's music is much more intellectual than Albéniz's. Among Falla's personality traits, as various authors describe him, his neatness and methodism stand out. Although Falla totally immerses himself in popular music, he does not re-create it as Albéniz does, creating melodies that are the product of his fantasy. In Falla the melodic appointment of traditional songs is very common. Albéniz's compositional process is based on improvisation, Falla's on conscientious and systematic study. This process was referred to by Orozco (2002). Regarding Falla's visit to the house of Polinario and Ángel Barrios, the English musicologist and critic of the London Times, John B. Trend writes:

“Mr. Falla wrote down those melodies that he liked, or those that it was possible to write down on the stave, because one of the best was full of "neutral thirds and sixths" unknown and inexpressible intervals in modern music51.” 

Regarding the influence of the French Impressionists, Walter Aaron Clark (2002) is blunt: there was influence in both directions. Jacinto Torres (1998), likewise, describes Albéniz's relationship with Debussy as mutually enriching.

On the other hand, Laplane writes that the new texture discovered by Albéniz inspired foreign composers such as Ravel and Debussy, fraying this tradition to such an extent that it was not recognizable. Puerta del Vino from the Preludes and the Soirée dans Grenade de Estampes, Iberia for orchestra by Debussy or the works of Ravel, La Alborada del gracioso, or Bolero, to cite some famous examples. Turina, does not hesitate to place Albéniz within this movement:

“Our first great impressionist, Isaac Albéniz, traced his brilliant and very personal line, basing it on songs and dances from Spain. After him, a large group of Spanish composers expanded the framework of impressionist music52.” 

What is it that differentiates Albéniz from those two french composers? Knowledge of the rhythmic patterns of Spanish music, and above all of the characteristics of cante jondo, something that is not appreciated in others. While Debussy and Ravel limit themselves to copying them (especially the habanera or bolero rhythm) to give local color, Albéniz's deep knowledge allows him to play with these materials without altering their essence. This also differentiates him from his contemporaries Chapí, Chueca etc. In addition, influences from flamenco styles and cante jondo rarely appear in them, which does happen in Albéniz.

It is interesting what Francisco de Paula Valladar, the official chronicler of Granada, writer, painter and musician, friend of Albéniz -both disciples of Pedrell-, reviews:

“He was the one who has managed to unravel the mother idea of the soul of Spanish music and linked this to the admirable study of the rhythms of music that he did as a child, to which he joined the profound piano technique of which he had Liszt and Wagner as teachers53.” European critics called him the Spanish Debussy.

An investigation into the influence that Albéniz had on French composers is yet to begin, of which there is hardly any data. But it is true that Albéniz's Spanishism has a universalizing sense. It is also very interesting to observe how Albéniz's music crossed the ocean:

Ernesto Lecuona was a Cuban composer who was born in 1895, that is to say when Albéniz was thirty-five years old. The influence of Albéniz can also be appreciated in his works.

Numerous guitarists have transcribed their pieces for the guitar. Llobet was one of them. Ángel Barrios with his Trio Iberia also transcribed some pieces by Albéniz for the instrumental ensemble made up of bandurria, lute and guitar (with Devalque and Altea). In Barrios' compositions, Albéniz's guidance can be appreciated: "Barrios, even before Falla, raised rhythms and modulations from the world of flamenco to the staff, following the path traced by his spiritual teacher, Albéniz54." 

And with him, the new generation of Spanish musicians such as Adolfo Salazar, Roberto Gerard, Federico Mompou, enthusiastic propagators of the contest project, are currently directing their need for inspiration towards the origin of cante jondo.

Albéniz also had two students who stood out in particular at the Schola Cantorum: René de Castéra (1873-1955) and Déodat de Severac (1872-1921) who finished his work Navarra (which was interrupted after Albéniz's death).