DOI: 10.24308/iass-2014-015

Romanian Academy, Institute of Linguistics, Bucharest, Romania

mariana_net15@yahoo.com

1. Introduction

There are many ways in which cities and their images can survive times. Sometimes they are evoked in novels, memoirs and diaries. Most cities are described in guidebooks. Others are painted or, since 1894, when cinema was invented, some cities have visible and “moving” icons. But cities can also have audible icons. Music is one of them.

Some cities are immortalized in symphonic pieces. The best known examples are Vienna as evoked by Johann Strauss, Rome in the concerts of Ottorino Respighi, and Aranjuez as in the famous concert by Joachim Rodrigo. In Germany, Berliner Luft by Paul Linecke is an operetta composed in 1904 on a Viennese model. Various Italian cities, such as Napoli and Sorrento, as well as some Spanish cities, like Valencia and Granada, were dedicated canzonette. Such songs can be traced back to the end of the 19^th century; they flourished in the former half of the 20^th century. The first pieces of popular music dedicated to New York City also date from the turn of the century; The Sidewalks of New York[1] was composed in 1894 and immediately became a hit. Back on the other side of the Atlantic, the Parisian chansonettes were en vogue in the 1920s, although the chansonette as a genre existed before the French Revolution.

2. Argument

The songs dedicated to cities are signs of time, place, mentalities and ideologies. As Eero Tarasti explained (2002: 4), “Music mediates between values, be they aesthetic, ideological or whatever – and fixed ready-made objects”. And further: “Music can ‘speak’ for a given ideology” (2002: 24). On the other hand, Tarasti emphasized that “Music is largely indifferent to the ideologies or political-historical situations in which it is realized” (2002: 25). But the texts on which songs are based are not indifferent to ideologies and political-historical situations either. They play an important part in this respect. Musical texts express – or at least evoke – ideologies and political situations.

This essay will be a survey of the romances dedicated to Bucharest, from a broad semiotic perspective. The research will refer to the romances’ texts to a greater extent than to their music.

The Romanian romance is a fluid genre, easy to recognize, although not so easy to define. It is a short, naive piece of lyric popular music. Its text always tells a story – a love story, which is sometimes happy and optimistic, albeit in most cases sad or at least nostalgic. The Romanian romance flourished in the 1930s. Then their music was a tango or a waltz, but it was also bossanova, rumba, foxtrot and jazz. Sometimes, though not too often, the romances’ tunes evoked Romanian folklore. 

This endeavour proves rather difficult, as very little research has been done in tis respect. Most of the basic information necessary for this research has been found in a few books: Deda (1968: passim), Caraman-Fotea (1989: 43, 283), Sbârcea (1984: 145, 202), Ghiață and Sachelarie (1966: 275), as well as on various LP and Cd covers.[2] The list of songs dedicated to Bucharest (http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/List%C4%83_de_c%C3%A2ntece_legate_de_Bucure%C8%99ti) to be found online has proved useful, too. However, the online discography mentions several pieces, but is incomplete as regards the authors of music and lyrics; sometimes it explains that the texts are unavailable. The launching year may also be uncertain. Anyway, this presentation only refers to those pieces which are available (which I could either read or listen to). Some songs have been lost, probably for ever; they are referred to in some memoirs and diaries or they survive in some old people’s recollections. While the bibliography in this respect is quite scarce, the discography is also incomplete. This survey will comment upon a few pieces deemed to be symptomatic for various epochs and ideologies. The discussion will follow a chronological order.

3. The origins

The origins of Romanian romances are to be found in the music and lyrics composed by Anton Pann (1790-1854) in the former half of the 19^th century; perhaps, even before that moment. Probably the first romance in the present-day sense of the term dates from the latter half of the same century, when D. G. Florescu (1827-1875) composed the music for the poem Steluța (Little Star) by V. Alecsandri (1821-1890). In 1887, Iancu Filip wrote the music for two already famous poems by M. Eminescu (1850-1889): De ce nu-mi vii? (Why Don’t You Come?) and Pe lângă plopii fără soț (Under the Row of Poplars Odd). Eminescu’s poetry was on nearly everybody’s lips in those times, although most people probably understood only the first level of significance. Many turn-of-the-century musicians composed romances on his verse.

But it was in the inter-war era that romances were en vogue, though at the end of Communist times, they were still appreciated by many. One reason for this belated fame enjoyed by romances was that they reminded people (elderly people, especially) of the dead and gone inter-war era which they considered romantic (this was only too natural, since it was the time of those people’s childhood and youth). Another reason was that romances belong to popular culture; their message is easy to understand, their music is enjoyable, and therefore they appeal to a lot of people of average – and even below average – cultural level. For this reason, the interpretation of romances was encouraged – even demanded – by Communist Power. For all these reasons, the romance, as a genre, can still be productive.

I contend there are three main moments in the evolution of Romanian romances dedicated to the city of Bucharest, namely (1) the inter-bellum era (also including the 1940s), (2) the 1950s, and (3) the years 1960-1980. Things became more complicated after 1990: a completely new kind of music was composed, while the songs’ topic and vocabulary were very different from what they used to be, therefore entirely different from traditional romances. This presentation will stop before reaching that moment.

4. The Inter-Bellum Era

Two hundred-odd romances were sung and hummed in Bucharest in the 1930s. Among them, I have been able to identify only seven songs in which Romania’s capital city or one of its landmarks are explicitly mentioned (not always in the title). The music of many of these songs was signed by Ion Vasilescu (1903-1960). They were sung by various stars of the time: Jean Moscopol, Cristian Vasile and Maria Tănase, as well as by Titi Botez and Dorel Livianu (who were just as famous at the time, in spite of being almost forgotten nowadays). Most romances were launched on revue stages such as Alhambra, Cărăbuș and Savoy or in various famous restaurants. Most recordings were then made at the Columbia studios in Vienna or at Odéon studios in Paris.

Probably the first romance dedicated to the city of Bucharest dates from 1932. It was a foxtrot titled Fetițele din București[3] (The Girls in Bucharest). Under the slightly altered title Fetițe dulci din București (Sweet Girls of Bucharest), this romance was still a hit in Communist times, when it was sung by Gică Petrescu.

In the same year (1932) Jean Moscopol recorded the romance Vrei să ne-ntîlnim sîmbătă seara?[4] (Shall We Meet on Saturday Night?). Another recording of this piece was made by Titi Botez in the following year; The song remained in the repertory of several popular music soloists until the 1970s. Its lyrics evoked a topos of inter-bellum Bucharest, namely the small pubs on Kisselef Avenue and on the adjacent streets, where live music was played on a piano and a violin.

It was also in the early 30s, probably on the occasion of the same journey to Vienna, that Jean Moscopol recorded at Columbia studios yet another romance referring to a city landmark, namely Cișmigiu Gardens.[5] Te-aștept diseară în Cișmigiu[6] (I’ll Wait for You Tonight in Cișmigiu). Interpreted by other singers,[7] this piece survived in Communist times.

Another famous romance, launched in 1937, was Hai să-ți arăt Bucureștiul noaptea.[8] (Let Me Show You Bucharest by Night). Unlike the previously mentioned songs, in which the city supplied only the conventional setting of the love story, the text of this romance stages an imaginary journey through the city “from the (Royal) Palace to the Avenue”[9] passing by the Athenaeum, going farther on Calea Victoriei[10] and reaching “Miorița” fountain, one of the city’s symbolic “gates.” It was at this point that the lovers were to declare their intense feelings. The text of this romance is close to that of Parisian chansonettes. The declaration of love is addressed to the city to the same extent to which it is addressed to the beloved woman.[11] This romance was an immediate hit, while its title (“Shall We Meet on Saturday Night?”) became a verbal cliché. The piece was also interpreted by various singers in Communist times. However, it is interesting to note that its text was altered. From 1948 onwards,[12] instead of “from the Palace to the Avenue,” it ran: “from downtown to the Avenue.” Any reference to the Royal Palace was completely banned from this popular music text and from any other text. 

Inter-bellum Bucharest was a care-free city, whose inhabitants were completely devoid of any inferiority complex. This idea is illustrated by the text of La margine de București,[13] (On the outskirts of Bucharest), a romance recorded by Gică Petrescu in 1939. It runs: ”On the outskirts of Bucharest / In my street covered in dust and mud …”[14] This song set a trend which was to be turned to profit on a wide scale in Communist times. The best-known example in this respect, as regards both music and lyrics, is La crîșma din Ferentari[15] (At the Pub in Ferentari).[16]

Another relevant example is Bucureștiul meu iubit,[17] (My Beloved Bucharest).[18] While the inter-bellum tune was a waltz, in the 1970s this romance was sung on a tune reminding of folklore. Thus, while before the War the outskirts were subtly “urbanized,” in Communist times the city was surreptitiously assimilated to its outskirts and their dominant mentalities.

In 1939, during the blackout, the romance en vogue was Te recunosc și pe întuneric, București,[19] (I Recognize You Even in the Dark, Bucharest),[20] a true “anthem” dedicated to the city. In this love song Bucharest was shown to have preserved its charm and its system of values even during a world war and in complete darkness. This romance is reminiscent of the famous Paris sera toujours Paris,[21] sung by Maurice Chevalier about the same time and under similar circumstances. The romance Cînd se sting luminile în București,[22] (When the Lights Are Out in Bucharest),[23] sung on a slowfox tune and unavailable now, probably belonged to the same series.

The online discography[24] of popular songs dedicated to Bucharest also includes La Șosea[25] (On the Avenue), sung by the now forgotten Kosak Sisters at the beginning of the 1940s.

There are also a few hits which have never been recorded and which seem to have been lost forever, though they were frequently performed in revue shows at the end of the inter-bellum era. Such an example is Ne-a văzut tot Bucureștiul împreună,[26] (Everybody in Bucharest Has Seen Us Together), almost unknown nowadays.

Many inter-bellum romances made use of diminutives (lassie, little pub, etc.) which are no longer in use. The presence of such words confer the songs a kind of outdated charm.

5. In the 1950s. In Bucharest and about Bucharest

Three main directions are manifest in the musical texts dedicated to Bucharest in the 1950s: (1) they continue the inter-bellum tradition of speaking about the city or its neighbourhoods. However, not a few texts also have a translation into Russian; in this case, it is the bi-lingual version that is recorded on disk and broadcasted on the radio or on television.[27] The last direction is represented by (3) those songs specially composed or adapted in order to celebrate the city’s 500^th anniversary.[28] Some romances fall into two categories or even into all three. That is why the following presentation will be only chronological.

For instance, the romance În Bucureștiul iubit[29] (In My Beloved Bucharest) had a Russian versiom, recorded by Jean Păunscu in 1950. 

Two years later, Gică Petrescu recorded with Electrecord (the Romanian recording house) a second popular piece which was a declaration of love to the city. It was titled; București, București.[30] This artist would continue to sing Bucharest throughout his long life.[31] In the following decades, he recorded some two dozen songs about the city; some of them were his own compositions. A few of these songs were revivals of ante bellum tunes, though their texts were slightly altered to comply with Communist ideology.

The songs about the city cannot be understood unless one is well acquainted with the city history. The romance A mai înflorit o grădiniță în București,[32] (Another Little Garden Has Appeared in Bucharest) dates from the early 50s. Its text refers to the initiative of one of the city mayors to plant some flower beds and install a bench or two on the sites of former buildings which had been destroyed by bombs during World War II. This romance was short-lived; it did not outlive the little gardens it referred to, and its text has not survived either, except in a few people’s memory.

The historiography of Romanian popular music also recorded the interesting fact that the already famous Maria Tănase went to the “Moși” Fair[33] and sang live the romance În Tîrgul Moșilor,[34] which was probably launched on that occasion.

The song Podul Grant[35] (Grant Bridge) also dates from 1959, though it is in no way connected with the city’s jubilee,[36] celebrated the same year. The text evoked a landmark already existing in the city for half a century.[37] It also reminded, in fairly decent terms, that at the beginning of the Communist era, blocks-of-flats had been built on Calea Griviței, between Northern Railway Station and Constanța Railway Bridge: “From Grant Bridge / I proudly admire the new buildings / On the site where I grew up”. The blocks-of-flats replaced the former buildings which had been destroyed by American bombardments.

On the other hand, the populist trend which had invaded all cultural spheres in the 1950s (actually until the mid-60s) was noticeable in popular music, too. An example in this respect is supplied by the text of the song Calea Griviței:[38] “It’s early morning and the siren has buzzed / And the workers are already in place. / I’m one of them and I tell the lathe ‘I’m here!’ / I’m like the clock in the nearby railway station: always on time”.

As already mentioned, in the sixth decade of the 20^th century some light music pieces were translated into Russian. This happened especially when Romanian artists toured the USSR. For instance, in 1959, Gică Petrescu recorded with Electrecord Cîntec pentru prietenii din București[39] (Song for My Friends in Bucharest). It was sung on a jazz tune. The text in Russian mentioned a few city landmarks, but especially the new blocks-of-flats and cinemas, whereas the refrain in Romanian explicitly confessed: “Now I sing for you, friends from far away, / And I feel you close by […] / From Moscow I send you greetings, / Bucharest, my beloved city. / Fly to Bucharest, my tune, / As a friendly gift from Moscow.” This text makes us believe that the song dates from 1957, when the artist was on a tour in Moscow. It may have been meant as a counter-weight of the songs M-am îndrăgostit de tine, Moscova[40] (I Have Fallen in Love with You, Moscow) and Te iubesc, Moscova[41] (I Love You, Moscow), recorded by Gică Petrescu with Apeleski Zavod, the Soviet recording house, in 1957. A belated echo of this trend can be identified at the beginning of the next decade, in 1961, when the same artist recorded with Electrecord, exclusively in Romanian, the song Amintiri dragi din Moscova[42] (Dear Souvenirs from Moscow).

In 1959, on the occasion of the 500^th anniversary of Bucharest, several songs were composed evoking the city. From various written, verbal and online sources, I have been able to identify four such pieces. Two of them were sung by Gică Petrescu. They were titled București, București,[43] (“Bucharest, Bucharest / You are my brother. / My beloved Bucharest / How did you manage to charm me? / Whenever I’m away from you / I’m yearning to come back.”) and  Cele mai frumoase fete[44] (The most beautiful girls) – to be found, obviously, only in Bucharest.

The song Frumos ești, București[45] (“How beautiful you are, Bucharest!”) probably dates from the same era.[46] Even if this song was composed a couple of years earlier,[47] the hypothesis is perfectly plausible that it became a hit on the occasion of the jubilee.

Paradoxically enough, the most symptomatic piece connected with the city’s anniversary was not an ad-hoc creation but the revival of a song from before the war. It is titled Salutare, bătrîne București[48] (Hello, Old Bucharest) and it dates from the 1930s. The text from before the war, written in the first person singular, told the story of a composer coming back to the city after a fairly long absence and promising never to leave it again: “Hello, old Bucharest, / I’m back to you after long years, / Beloved city of my childhood, / Never will I leave you again.” The text from 1959 introduced an explicit reference to the jubilee: “Hello, old Bucharest, / It’s your birthday, you are 500 now.” That is why, to the generations born after the war, this song has always evoked the jubilee.

A salient feature of the songs dedicated to Bucharest in the 1950s is a (fleeting) reference to the slums. Sometimes the slums – Obor, Colentina – were explicitly mentioned. Another feature is the mention of the new blocks-o-flats, of which the era was extremely proud – most often without reason.

6. In Bucharest and about Bucharest in the ’6os, ’70s and ’80s.

All the already mentioned tendencies are rendered manifest in the last three decades of Communism. The online discography includes about fifty titles, but, once again, the information is incomplete. In what follows, I will mention only those songs which, by both expression and content, are closest both to ante bellum romances and to Parisian chansonettes.

Gică Petrescu continued his career of singing light music pieces and interpreted several romances dedicated to Bucharest; in some cases, he also composed the music of such songs. București, București[49] is a declaration of love – hyperbolic, naive, but sincere – addressed to the city: “Bucharest, Bucharest, / So dear you are to me. / I’ve grown up with you. / I’ve watched you growing up, / You are so wonderful. /…/ Bucharest, Bucharest, / Those who love you / Have always sung songs about you. / Now it’s my turn to sing about you, / My beloved city.”

The song Undeva, pe-o stradă mică[50] (Somewhere, in a Side Street) continued the style of inter bellum romances in both music and lyrics. It was recorded by the same artist also in 1970 and it nostalgically refers to a patriarchal neighbourhood in the city and to a lasting love story which strengthened the lovers’ relation to the city: “Somewhere, in a side street in Bucharest, / There is a house with geraniums on its window sills. / Our old photographs and souvenirs / Show images of the first time we met.” The romantic love for a woman is equivalent to the lasting love for the city.

Much later – probably at the beginning of the 1980s –, Luigi Ionescu recorded the tango Draga mea din București[51] (My Sweetheart from Bucharest), yet another song which seems to have survived from before the war: “Where are you, my sweetheart from Bucharest? / Where are our hopes for love? / They’ve faded, like roses in autumn. / Where are they and where are you? / I remember some much-cherished neighbourhoods in Bucharest / Singing the songs of our hearts. […] / I was walking in the streets by your side, / We felt so good […] With half-closed eyes, I see images from the past, / As on a screen, I see the charm which is now over.” The rhetorical question “Where are they and where are you?” seems addressed to the city to the same extent to which it is addressed to the beloved one, while the “images from the past” and “the charm which is now over” refer both to the city and to the former sweetheart.

It was also at the beginning of the 1980s that Dan Spătaru recorded Noapte bună, București,[52] (Good-night, Bucharest!), yet another declaration of love to the city, in which the metropolis resembles the beloved one: “Good-night, Bucharest, good-night! / Night has cast its secret veil. […] My poem flies to you. / And whispers in all your neighbourhoods / Good-night, Bucharest, good-night! […] Sleep well, my beloved city / And dream your sweet dreams! / Good-night, Bucharest, good-night!” The message is clear enough; comments are superfluous.

Many new singers became famous in the 1980s. At the beginning of the ninth decade, Mircea Vintilă recorded the romance Strada Popa Nan[53] (Popa Nan Street); in a nostalgic, troubadour-like style, the song describes the obsolete lifestyles of one of the city’s patriarchal neighbourhoods which seemed to have travelled through times with very little change.  

About the same time, Nicu Alifantis composed and sang a kind of “anthem” dedicated to the metropolis: “You, Bucharest, city of poetry, / My garden with thousands of roses, / You tempt your poets to compose / Ballads to unforgettable loves”. The text also refers, in a ludical key, to some of the best known poets who lived and wrote poetry in the city in the last two centuries (the Văcărescu Brothers, Eminescu, Minulescu, Bacovia), the implicit assumption being that Alifantis himself was among their descendants. 

This ludic-nostalgic key is also characteristic of a waltz sung by Marina Voica in the mid-eighties: București e Micul Paris[54] (Bucharest is A Little Paris). Its mildly ironical text is conclusive enough: “I sit by the window and watch / The city I love. /…/ Bucharest is A Little Paris […] But then why don’t we speak / Of Paris as another Bucharest?” This romance shows Bucharest to be a Narcissist city (the text mentions a few landmarks: Calea Victoriei, Cișmigiu Gardens, the Athenaeum, Kisselef Avenue), also endowed with subtle irony and the sense of proportions.  

7. Conclusions

1. Cities are evoked, ludically and narcissistically, in songs, while the songs dedicated to the cities increase the cities’ charm and strengthen their atmosphere. 

2. As far as Bucharest is concerned, there is a clear difference between the romances composed before War World II and romances composed in the Communist era. The music of inter-bellum romances was up-to-date: songs were composed on partitions of tango, waltz, foxtrot, rumba, jazz and other fashionable rhythms of the time, while the romances composed in the Communist era preserved tangos and waltzes but often favoured tunes drawing inspiration from Romanian folklore or rather nondescript tunes which sounded obsolete. Paradoxically, the romances’ music sounded more up-to-date during the last decade of Communism, when the composition was encouraged of nostalgic tunes reminiscent of generic troubadour music. Incidentally, this trend was also fashionable in European and North-American music in the 1980s.

3. A difference is also obvious as regards the romances’ texts. Many inter-bellum lyrics were censored after the war, while the texts composed in the Communist era were more naive and redundant than before. Some of the romances composed during the 1950s, when Romania was occupied by Russian troops, also had a version in Russian, usually included in the same piece and sung alternatively with the Romanian version. Other texts spoke of the workers’ enthusiasm in factories. While some romances continued to evoke a few city landmarks, many others spoke either of the slums or of the new blocks-of-flats. The obvious assumption was that before Communism came and built flats for the workers, most of the city had consisted of slums. It was an indirect way of legitimating the Communist Power, which had “urbanized” the city and the country by replacing the slums with “modern” blocks-of-flats. Communist historians and ideologists claimed this false idea openly. It is, once again, in the 1980s that texts became more sophisticated and closer to poetry.

4. The only common factor of the romances dedicated to Bucharest is the singers’ love for the city.

5. As announced at the beginning, this research has been made from a broad semiotic perspective. But nowadays I find it almost impossible to do semiotic research without placing things in context, without being acquainted with history, lifestyles and ideologies. Sometimes, semiotics merges into cultural studies. This essay belongs to both disciplines.

References

CARAMAN-FOTEA, Daniela. 1989. Meridianele cîntecului. București: Editura muzicală.

DEDA, Edmond. 1968. Parada muzicii ușoare. București: Editura muzicală.

GHIAȚĂ, Petre & Clery SACHELARIE. 1966. Maria Tănase și cîntecul românesc. București: Editura muzicală.

*** Listă de cântece legate de București http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/List%C4%83_de_c%C3%A2ntece_legate_de_Bucure%C8%99ti

Sbârcea, George. 1984. “Muza cu har. Două secole de muzică ușoară românească.” Supliment al revistei Muzica. București: Editura Muzicală.

TARASTI, Eero. 2002. Signs of Music. A Guide to Musical Semiotics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyer.