"A fascinating introduction to the significant voice of Nicolás Lell Benavides"

This article originally appeared in Issue 49:5 (May/June 2026) of Fanfare Magazine.

Composer Nicolás Lell Benavides is the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship and has worked with some of the major American institutions, such as Washington National Opera, Eighth Blackbird, and the Los Angeles Philharmonic (with Dudamel). Benavides studied at Santa Clara University, the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, and the University of Southern California Thornton School of Music.

The song-cycle Canto Caló is an exploration of memory, specifically of grandparents; “Caló” refers to the language of both composer and singer’s grandparents, a mix of Spanish and English. Setting a traditional text, the composer asks for a number of “voices” for the song, “El zapatero” (The Shoemaker). Nicolás Lell Benavides’ response is light and rhythmic, with a modern edge. Melinda Martinez Becker is superb in her delivery, as is the Friction Quartet; all need to be on their toes for “Bueno,” too, where wooden slaps punctuate the discourse (Becker sings, in English, “The wisdom of the words is in their rhythm”). The mood turns substantially for the “Canción de guerra,” Latin American rhythms sneaking in after a more elusive opening; the mood returns to that of the beginning. The text here is by Gilbert Benavides (1929–2018). “Ni el cielo” sets a text by the singer; the music seems both more angular and more distant in response. Finally, “El brio nuevomejicano” to a text by the composer, lively, full of hope. The performance here, and throughout, is exceptional; just as impressive is the recording, which was made at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music (Bowes Center).

The premise for the string quartet piece El Correcaminos is interesting: an acknowledgement of the various peoples who arrived in New Mexico, presented in reverse chronological order: the Americans, the Spanish and Mexicans, and the Navajo people. These are spread across the first three movements; the final movement combines elements from the previous three, and, to quote the booklet, “bolts frantically from one bit of material to the next.” And in that word “bolts” is the clue for the title: “correcaminos,” which refers to the roadrunner, New Mexico’s state bird. The first movement, “Chaparral Bird,” tells of the Americans heading West (superstition has it that the roadrunner led them back to the trail). The music holds a sense of expectant energy; the Friction Quartet is simply beyond criticism in its confidence and understanding of the score. Dance does appear, a pair of skipping violins at first, buoyant pizzicato for all later on. The second movement focuses on the Spanish and Mexicans who arrived in New Mexico in the 18th and 19th centuries. Pizzicato and spiccato play large roles here; as does more of that dance feel. Nicolás Lell Benavides writes with superb confidence, managing to invoke place and culture while maintaining his own sonic signature.

The third movement, “Tadai,” takes its name from O’odham, an old Uto-Aztecan language. Here we are with the Hopi people, who believed the roadrunner was a protector against evil spirits (its asymmetrical feet can conceal its direction of travel). “Tadai” is a held-breath movement, quiet, where single lines speak volumes. Nicolás Lell Benavides explores timbral change and difference, but always within his expensive remit; and how quiet the Friction Quartet manages to make the ending, delivered with perfect control. Finally, “Cyx,” its title derived from the scientific name for a roadrunner, “Geococcyx.” Moods and tempos do shift swiftly as older material is introduced and re-examined via context and juxtaposition. It feels satisfying on one level, but on another opens up questions as to in which other directions this material could go (or even could have gone).

A fascinating introduction to the significant voice of Nicolás Lell Benavides; and also a reminder of the excellence of the Friction Quartet, whose work I have previously enjoyed in music by David Conte (Fanfare 39:2) and in Nick Vasallo’s Ozymandias (45:6). Colin Clarke