I have even less Portuguese than Catalan, so when I first saw this title, I figured it meant “something of the grandmothers,” which left me puzzled. When I found out that it actually meant “Lullaby of the Ninths,” I remained puzzled for a moment—but just a moment. The ninths referred to are the musical interval. Western music was long based on major and minor chords, composed of the first note of the key, the third note of the key, and the fifth note of the key. In C major, starting on C, that means C, E and G, which form the chord of C major. If you start on F, you get F, A and C as you go up, making the chord of F major. Later in music history, composers increasingly added the seventh note of the scale as well (C, E, G and B), making seventh chords—and of course, it was only logical to explore the next odd numbered note, the ninth.

Each time, you get a different effect—7th chords sound a little dissonant, jazzy, full of tension that wants to resolve. 9th chords, however, sound like a “shimmering, full orchestra” (according to this website, anyway)—because they often omit the third (which tells you if the chord is major or minor), they sound ambiguous, indeterminate, often rather mysterious.

Indeed, that first chord you hear in this piece is a ninth (A9, or more accurately, Aadd2). It is, in fact, my favorite chord on the guitar, its most evocative and beautiful sound, perhaps a bit melancholy. You hear at the beginning of The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes,” for instance. Here, in the “Acalanto,” we find ninths all over the place—and this isn’t the last time we’ll hear them on this album. “Un día de noviembre” by Leo Brouwer also relies on ninths, including the A9 chord that introduces the “Acalanto.” Is it a coincidence that November (noviembre) used to be the ninth month of the year (hence the “nove” in its name)?