Bird of a child prodigy:
Isaac Albéniz was born in Camprodón (Ripolles) on May 29, 1860. His father Àngel Albéniz was a civil servant in Ripolles and his mother, Dolors Pascual, was a native of Figueres. At the age of four, Isaac performed at the Romea in Barcelona, where his parents had moved shortly after his birth, performing a fantasy on Verdi’s Sicilian Vespers. His first teacher was Narcís Oliveras. Later, at the age of six, he studied first with Antoine François Marmontel in Paris, and subsequently at the Conservatory. At the age of 8, he gave concerts in many Catalan cities and towns.
Albéniz had a clear calling to be a pianist from such an early age, and we find his music among the repertoires of the most renowned pianists of today, which they have selected as especially representative of popular Andalusian music for that instrument.
Andalusian motifs inspired a large part of his compositions. Despite being born in Catalunya, Albéniz rarely found inspiration from his home region. However, Albéniz was a deeply Catalan man, one whom we could now call of the “Catalan universal”.

A very migratory childhood:
Since his father, Ángel Albéniz, was a civil servant, young Albéniz found himself moving all over Spain. He was born in Camprodón because his father was stationed there at the time. After three years, they moved to Sitges, and a few months later to Barcelona. Years later, Albéniz Sr. became customs officer in Almería, a position that he lost because of his political leanings, and the family moved back to Barcelona. The eight-year-old Albéniz was then in Madrid, where he had passed the sight-singing examination to enter the music conservatory. In July there was another change of address, this time to Cáceres.
He travelled regularly from Cáceres, where his father’s fate settled him, to Madrid, so that he could attend sight-singing classes with Feliciano Primo and piano performance classes with Manuel Mendizábal. At the age of ten, he enthusiastically gave recitals at every possible venue, without neglecting his studies.
His father was once again posted to Madrid, and the entire family followed. It was during this time that he began to be known through recitals in Valladolid, Salamanca, Palencia, León, Oviedo, Ávila, El Escorial, all over Andalucía—in short, for a series of towns and peoples who had come to demand the presence of the young pianist.
When Isaac was fourteen, his sister, Blanca, committed suicide in the Parque del Retiro in Madrid, where she was a member of the Zarzuela theatre troupe.
In 1875, Albéniz’s father was appointed Post Office Supervisor General for Puerto Rico and Cuba, but again the following year he would lose this position, forcing the family to return to Madrid. For young Isaac, all these geographical meanderings were nothing more than a pleasant way in which to visit and learn about new places. During these years, he performed in cities such as San Juan de Puerto Rico and Santiago de Cuba, as well as in various parts of Havana.
 

Networking:
By 1876, Albéniz’s prestige was widely known in Madrid’s aristocratic circles. Guillermo Morphy Ferris, a count and personal secretary to Alfonso XII, used his considerable influence to open the doors of the court to Albéniz and was very enthusiastic about his talent. Albéniz received a royal pension to study at the Royal Conservatory in Brussels, where he perfected the art of piano performance and sight-singing. From this moment, it can be said that Albéniz forged his own independent path distinct from his father’s traditional line of work. A man of inexhaustible imagination, he went beyond the field of his own music, even inventing situations and anecdotes, such as his supposed collaboration with Franz Liszt. Albéniz noted in his diary that he met Liszt in Budapest on August 18, 1880, an impossible feat given that Liszt had taken up residence in Weimer by then. He was given to the exhibitionism of a child prodigy, as when he would play the piano blindfolded or with his back to the piano, or place a cloth over the keys to make the task even more difficult. Therefore his diary, though undoubtedly helpful in studying his character, is peppered with several passages that require a certain scrutiny, or at least an ability to separate fact from fiction.

Albéniz the composer:
Albéniz’s compositions profoundly matured when he reached his twenties, but he did not forego displaying his virtuosity for populations all over Europe. During several intervals, he taught classes to his considerably aristocratic disciples, and in the evenings, despite being exhausted, he brought himself to compose pages and pages of music; he had signed a contract with the editor Romero i Andía for five pesetas per manuscript page. Romero thought he had made a savvy business deal, but Albéniz proved so prolific that soon the editor begged to terminate the contract—the young composer had managed to offer dozens of pages daily, more than Romero was prepared to compensate him for. A large quantity of these manuscripts has been lost, but they are known from references in letters, documents, and statements by people close to Albéniz, as well as from early Albéniz scholars. We have also been left with several incomplete manuscripts, works begun—sometimes simply sketches of only one or two bars of what might have been. All these remnants give us an idea of his exuberant character, of his perpetual restlessness, and of his desire to embrace musical expression. An extensive annotated catalogue of his works, along with a recommended discography, can be found in the recent biography Albéniz, by musicologist Justo Romero.
The year 1883 was an important one in the life of Albéniz. Upon returning from his travels throughout South America, he re-established himself in Barcelona, where he met Felip Pedrell, one of the greatest Catalan musicians and composers, and a scholar of ancient music. It was Pedrell who convinced Albéniz of the need to develop a profoundly national musical style.

Albèniz, Art Nouveau musician?:
Albéniz lived during the height of the Art Nouveau period, from about 1880 to 1910. Although it is difficult to speak of a purely Catalan Art Nouveau musical style (in the same way one could speak of Claude Debussy and Eric Satie in France, for example), the characteristics of Albeniz’s music clearly place him within this movement—strongly oriented toward a popular vision of art and music and a creative license that began to emerge in the works of Felip Pedrell and that clashed with the academic rigidity that had until then been imposed.
Following that way, the work of Xosé Aviñoa and specially his books "La música i el Modernisme" (The music and the Art Nouveau) and "Modernisme i Modernistes - Música i Modernisme: Definició i Període -" (Art Nouveau and its artists - Music and Art Nouveau: Definition and Period - (see Bibliography), is an interesting investigation on Catalan musical Art Nouveau.

Marriage and later years:
Albéniz married his student, Rosina Jordana, on June 23, 1883 in Barcelona’s Mare de Déu de la Mercé church. They had five children—four girls (two of whom died in infancy) and one boy. In 1885, the couple moved to Madrid. Albéniz performed a series of concerts during the 1888 World’s Fair in Barcelona that catapulted him into artistic renown. On June 13 of the following year, after a fabulous welcome, he performed in Prince’s Hall, London, where he received such warm acclaim from the British press that he stayed in Britain to give more concerts—in St. James Hall, Steinway Hall, and at Crystal Palace—throughout 1889.
There is no doubt as to his appreciation of the value of Catalan music, since after his stint in London he decided to move back to Barcelona (though it might just as easily have been a decision made out of a pure desire for stability, since nothing is easily explained that comes from the mind of Albéniz).
Regardless, in Catalunya he rediscovered the cosmopolitanism he had enjoyed on the journeys of his youth. His career as a pianist reached its zenith from 1889 to 1892, when, aside from the concerts in Britain, he gave others in Germany, Austria, Belgium, and France. In addition to London and Barcelona, he also lived in Paris (where he taught at the Schola Cantorum), Brussels, Nice, and Leipzig, among other cities. But it was in Andalusia where he would capture the essence of folk melodies, where he would create a suite of music that expressed a greater sense of being alive than he ever found in any other place.

Albéniz’s music, synthesis of styles:
According to Yale Fineman, Albéniz introduced several elements native to the southern Iberian peninsula—basically Andalusia—into his music. He also wrote for the piano in the idiom of the guitar. A comparison of his earlier, guitar-inspired works with his later ones, such as the Iberia Suite, reveals that the latter is noticeably more pianistic. Other noticeable differences arise in the formal construction of his works: the final section of his pieces alternated between the typical final movement of sonata form, folk melodies, and interludes and dances. With Iberia, a suite with extraordinary technical complexity, Albéniz’s music entered the twentieth century. It enriched his musical vocabulary, which became much more interesting not only to his usual fans and followers, but also to the general public. Albéniz was adept at combining elements of contemporary European music with both the Andalusian and popular Catalan musical idioms. Despite having these somewhat foreign elements, his music was enthusiastically accepted by his public.

Contracts for compositions:
From 1890 to 1893, Albéniz lived comfortably in London. During this time, in addition to continuing to compose for piano and giving concerts in London and other European cities, he wrote some successful operettas and songs which allowed him to become temporarily contracted as principal composer and director at the Prince of Wales Theatre.
In 1893, he was offered the post permanently, but he preferred to return to Barcelona, and subsequently to Paris. Albéniz was by this time a role model for those who seek to capitalize on genius. There was give-and-take between various English businessmen, bankers, and poets offering highly lucrative opportunities to set English poems and plays to music.
Finally, Albéniz met a wealthy English banker, Francis Money-Coutts (Lord Latymer), who as a hobby wrote dramatic poems, which we wished to set to music. The contract between Lord Latymer and Albéniz allowed the composer to achieve the financial stability much-needed by his family. This arrangement could be viewed in two ways: on the one hand, it brought economic solvency, which Albéniz greatly appreciated after the privations of the previous years. On the other hand, he fulfilled the terms of the contract with little inspiration and without the feeling that he had felt when he composed more artistically satisfying pieces in the past. Who knows whether if in those moments he longed for the time when one of those little jewels for piano that made him so popular would rise from his heart. Sadly, those jewels had little or no market value, despite Albéniz being one of the highest-paid musicians of the time.
These commissions were not easy for him. Albéniz could not find the sonorous magic of the solo piano in orchestral music, and his compositions had to strike a balance between the formalities demanded by certain instrumental parts and the inspiration he was supposed to find at a fixed price. Perhaps his fault lie in self-teaching: he obtained his academicism too much by force. To this period belongs his opera Pepita Jiménez, based on a work by Juan Valera. It enjoyed great success and was performed in Barcelona (1896), Prague (1897), Brussels (1905), and Paris (Opera-Comique, 1923).

His environment and the first signs of illness:
His musician friends (Fauré, Dukas, Granados, Malats, and Breton, among others) always sought his point of view in informal gatherings. They always wanted his opinion on this or that detail—all in all, he was a recognized and respected personality.
This brilliant pianist always wanted to learn, always to learn, especially to learn enough to be able to compose for orchestra with the same sensibility and lightness as he did for piano. His music did not convey the time in which Albéniz lived. He had a negative vision of his era, reflected in the correspondence he maintained with his sister Clementina during his stay at the health resort in Plombières in the summer of 1898. This gloom was surely exacerbated by the fact that Albéniz’s health had already begun to show signs of deterioration.
Effectively coinciding with his thirty-sixth birthday, there appeared in his diary a long paragraph that reflected the state of man still in his youth, but already exhausted by the strains experienced so far in his life trajectory, engaged in self-reflection, trying to decide whether things had gone well or not—in short, feeling the insecurities everyone feels in solitude once the world’s applause and elegies fade away. Albéniz wrote these lines from his hotel in Prague, where he was rehearsing his opera, Pepita Jiménez.

Illness sets in:
Despite passing the years tortured by his illness, Albéniz did not stop composing with all the will power in the world. For nearly twelve years, he suffered from Bright’s Disease (chronic nephritis), enduring periods of pain so acute that during a stay in England, he fell so gravely ill that unfounded rumors of his death began circulating.
Louis Bonafoux, a journalist for the Madrid Herald, wrote: “Albéniz’s kidneys are broken, but he has conserved all his inner strength and optimism, which stubbornly keep him alive, and, what is more, working!” This prolific Catalan could do nothing but work while his body fell increasingly ill. With this spirit, Albéniz turned from the world of interpretation to dedicate himself fully to composing.
Several works of greater and lesser scope remained only in draft form, though he completed several more, such as Merlin and La real hembra (The Royal Peahen) in 1902, Launcelot in 1904, and the twelve segments of Iberia in 1906. He continued to travel all over despite his physical suffering, but everyone has a limit.

His stay at the health resort in Cambo-les-bains and his death:
Following the recommendation of his doctors, on April 1, 1909 Albéniz left Paris, where he had been living, and with his family moved to the health resort in Cambo-les-bains (Pays Basque) to find a healthier climate.
This move brought it home that the end was near, and the prescribed doses of morphine that he self-administered scarcely alleviated his suffering. An emotional reunion took place in early May, when he received a visit from his admirer, Enric Granados, who brought him news from all of his friends. Debussy, Dukas, Fauré, d’Indy, and Granados himself had petitioned the French government to bestow the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor on Albéniz, and he would receive the decoration shortly. All these efforts were recounted in a letter Granados gave to the dying man. Then they embraced—according to witnesses—and neither could say anything through their emotion and tears. The doctor finally had to separate them. They then poured forth in a long and animated discussion in which Granados informed him of his latest musical events, mentioning his upcoming tour of the United States to introduce his works there. Albéniz asked him to play something on the piano. Granados sat down and began playing “La maja y el ruiseñor,” unpublished in those days, and while he played he wanted to surprise his friend Albeniz, so, without saying a word, he stopped playing his own music and launched into “Mallorca,” a little barcarolle the two friends had written during a trip to the Balearic Islands—a way to conjure memories without speaking. That day spent in Granados’ company was one of the last lucid days of Albéniz’s life.
He died at eight in the evening on May 18, 1909, only a few days before his forty-ninth birthday. His death was widely mourned, and his body stayed in Cambo-les-bains for a few days, where the prefect of the department of Bays-Pyrenees paid his homage and placed on his casket the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor.
The funeral cortege left for Barcelona, where they arrived by train on June 5 at the Estació de França. The city paid tribute with a solemn reception ceremony that lasted until the next day. The Municipal Band of Barcelona played the Funeral March from Wagner’s Twilight of the Gods, the Orfeo Català performed passages from Fauré’s Requiem, Chopin’s Funeral March from his Sonata No. 2 was performed. . . . After the funeral solemnities, the cortege passed through the streets decked with Catalan flags flying at half mast and made an emotional stop in front of the Liceu. Hundreds of people gathered to give their condolences. Albéniz was later buried in Barcelona Montjuïc cemetery.
It is impossible not to stop and consider what further great things this universal Catalan would have achieved had his life not been cut tragically short.