Philippines National Artist for Music (1973) Antonio Molina

Antonio Jesus Naguiat Molina - his music and his life

 

Antonio Jesus Naguiat Molina was born on the 26th of December, 1894, in Quiapo, Manila. He is the son of Juan Molina, a customs inspector during the final years of the Spanish regime, and Simeona Naguiat. Antonio Molina was married to Pilar Siauingco with whom he had six children - among them are: Rostia, a pianist; Exequiel (Lito), a jazz artist and journalist; and, Antonio Maria, Jr., a US-based conductor and composer.

His most important orchestral works are Misa Antoniana Grand Festival Mass (1964) and Ang Batingaw (1972). Among his chamber music compositions are Prelude and Romanz for cello and piano (1928) and Bontok Rhapsody. Some of his piano works are Malikmata (1939) and We Were Moonlight (1941).

Antonio Sr.'s father founded the 22-piece Orquestra Molina, whose members lived and rehearsed in the family residence. At 12, Antonio Sr. could play the violin. The bandurria, mandolin, guitar, laud, bajo de unas and octavina, and the cello all followed later. 

He received his Bachelor's degree in 1909 at the Colegio de San Juan de Letran. Prior to that, he also went to the Escuela de Catolica de Quiapo, where he began his first formal schooling. In 1919, he enrolled at the University of the Philippines (UP) Conservatory of Music. His teachers included Nicanor Abelardo and the Conservatory Director, Robert Schofield. He obtained his teacher's diploma in 1923. From 1922 to 1924, he concertised extensively in Hanoi and other parts of Indo-China. He also taught at the UP Conservatory of Music and then at the Centro Escolar University. He functioned both as organizer and conductor of Philippine choral and rondalla music groups wherein he was also actively involved. He conducted the premiere of the Bach's Christmas Oratorio on the 14th of December, 1947, the first performance of Mozart's opera, Don Giovanni, and the first television choral concert to be presented in the Philippines. 

Molina's first composition, "Matinal" (1912), is preserved in an unpublished volume called Miniaturas, Vol. I. According to the composer, they are called Miniaturas because they do not seem to have arrived at a category of serious musical works. They are merely combinations of melody and harmony conceived during a moment of enthusiasm, passion, or humour, and later written down. They are products of inspiration and instinct, and not of technical studies in music. He then wrote a set of waltzes, Lamentos de mi Patria (Laments of my Fatherland) in 1913, and "Hatinggabi", his most famous violin piece (1915).

His hundreds of compositions include a sarswela entitled "Ana Maria", done while he was still in school. His most important orchestral works are Misa Antoniana Grand Festival Mass (1964) and Ang Batingaw (1972). Among his chamber music compositions are Prelude and Romanz for cello and piano (1928) and Bontok Rhapsody. Some of his piano works are Malikmata (1939) and We Were Moonlight (1941). His major works are composed of chamber music, choral, piano, violin, theatre, voice and violoncello music. Many of his works still have not been published.

Antonio Molina received numerous awards such as the Conductor of the Year Award (1953) from the Music Lovers' Society, the UP Conservatory Alumni Award and the Phi Kappa Beta Award (1972), among others. He was the first musician to be conferred the National Artist Award (12th June, 1972).

Antonio Molina, Sr. died on the 29th of January, 1980.

Why does classical music make us cry?

Why does classical music make us cry? Pictured: Yukiko Ogura (Philharmonia Principal Viola). Picture: Getty / Camilla Greenwell

By Maddy Shaw Roberts

Catchy music makes you tap your foot. Emotive music catches you off guard and without warning, has your eyes pricking and nose running. So why do we have this physiological response to music? 

Think about your favourite piece of music… and then imagine hearing it live for the first time. If you’re having a trouble, have a listen to this beautiful piece of Bach for solo piano:

Blind pianist Lucy plays enchanting Bach 'Prelude in C' in Royal Albert Hall debut | Classic FM Live

Or if that didn’t conjure up much, try this – the stirring second movement of Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto:

Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2 (I) - Jeneba Kanneh-Mason | Classic FM

If you felt a lump in your throat or a stinging sensation in your eyes, you wouldn’t be alone. Music can elicit highly emotional responses – a 2017 survey of 892 adults found that nearly 90% had experienced feeling like crying when listening to music.

Outside of musical enjoyment, crying can be a great cathartic release, helping to relieve stress when we’re feeling sad or anxious. Tears contain stress hormones, which are released from our bodies when we cry. But why do we cry to music?

IT can feel like music speaks directly to our hearts. Think of the other emotional contexts music is used in, from rousing hymns at weddings, to poignant elegies at funerals, and rousing marches at graduations as we begin our adult lives.

Shedding a few tears to music is considered a healthy response. It can help us process our deepest emotions in a safe setting – in a concert hall, surrounded by fellow music lovers, at a ceremony, or perhaps at home, listening to a recording.

One of the main purposes of music is to communicate something beautiful for our collective appreciation. So if the music makes you cry, it’s probably doing its job right.

When we feel an emotional response to the music, it can be down to familiarity. Music conjures of memories of the past – of a loved one, a dream or a family member – and hearing great classical music can help connect us to times gone by, creating create a sense of poignancy that this music was also enjoyed by audiences over 200 years ago.

Tears are often invoked when the musical choices feel familiar. In the build-up to the great pianistic climax in Rachmaninov’s concerto, anticipation builds and the reward circuit in our brain is triggered, as the ‘expected’ moment in the music finally arrives and the feeling of tension and anticipation is released.

Crying to music can help us process our deepest emotions in a safe setting. Picture: Alamy

Our physiological reactions can be down to pure musical appreciation – the feeling of awe we experience at experiencing art performed at a high level.

We might feel awestruck at the virtuosity of the performers, or the intricacy of the musical writing. Techniques like long melodic phrases, harmonic tension and resolve, and changes in intensity can elicit feelings of satisfaction, hope and even hopelessness.

Studies show that dramatic changes in dynamics, rhythm and texture can light up the brain, and that satisfying harmonic journeys can trigger the reward-related regions of our brains.

When words are difficult, music can communicate the unsayable – that’s a paraphrase of a quote by Hans Christian Andersen, who once said, “Where words fail, music speaks”.

The point is, there’s also something to be said for the wordlessness of orchestral music. Much like a ballet, the narrative created with music and no words can make us feel on a deeper level that speaks to everyone universally.

Whether you cry or get goosebumps while listening to music can also depend on your personality type. Read more about that in this study.