Herminio Giménez

The music of Herminio Giménez pulses with the rhythm of rivers and guitars that cross borders. His sound does not stay in Paraguay: it expands across America like an echo that carries the chamamé, the guarania, and the Paraguayan vals to stages where these genres were uncommon. In his compositions, there is something that beats stronger than time: melodies that sound like damp earth after the rain, like stories told between mate and guitars. Polkas such as Poncho jhovy or Yasy morotí, composed when he was still a child in General Caballero, already showed that blend of tradition and freshness that would define him. But where his signature truly stands out is in pieces like Che trompo arasá or Alto Paraná, where the harp and violins converse as if seated at the same table. This is not music to be heard passively: it demands to be played, to feel how the rasgueo of the guitar intertwines with the punteo of the harp in a sway that never stops.

His career took an unexpected turn when the Chaco War led him to direct the military band. It was not just a job: there, he learned to translate chaos into order, and that discipline would later be evident in every orchestra he led. Exile in Corrientes and Buenos Aires did not stop him; instead, it pushed him to create. In the 1930s and 40s, his orchestras resonated in Rio de Janeiro and New York, bringing Paraguayan sounds to places where they were unexpected. But it was in the 1950s and 60s when his music found its most recognizable voice. Malvita, for example, became a piece that musicians like Ernesto Montiel or Damasio Esquivel reinterpreted time and again, as if each version gave it a new hue. He sought no international fame; he wanted his music to speak for itself.