[Roger Knox]

The Symphonie no. 1: Sur un choral breton (1895) in A minor by Joseph-Guy Ropartz opens with a progression of three crisis-laden chords, followed by a sombre melody for cello that is answered by the oboe. In the allegro the same mood continues, though things lighten up with the major-key second theme. Restless modulation reminding one of César Franck follows in the development section, and a recapitulation plus short coda complete the orthodox sonata-form movement. What I find significant is a grey, dignified yet pulsating-with-life feeling, that may be related to the composer's sense of his home region, Brittany. The second movement in effect compresses a slow movement and scherzo together in a three-part form. A plaintive oboe melody opens, succeeded by a contrasting pastoral section featuring violins. The middle part of the movement is the "scherzo," but I found this section diffuse. The transition to the opening has metric tension with recurring passages in 5/8 meter. The finale opens with a folk-like melody, the oboe takes the lead again as the tempo slows, and there is a build-up towards the first climax with the opening movement's crisis chords. Near the movement's end the brass section join in, playing the theme in augmentation over the busy orchestra until a triumphant close in which the three-chord progression resolves on the tonic major chord.

Ropartz's Symphony No. 2 (1900) in F minor has interesting points of comparison with the First. Again there is the sombre mood with the opening movement beginning with a notable three-chord progression. But the work is more march-like, more compact even though now in the classical four movements, and it has a conventional second-movement scherzo. The Adagio third movement is the heart of this work -- one of the most beautiful of symphonic slow movements, with exquisite craft and a depth of feeling comparable to the Adagietto of Mahler's Fifth, or the third movement of Korngold's symphony. The Finale opens with a rollicking folk-like theme which becomes the subject of a seven-part rondo. It ends with trumpet flourishes and a magnificent chorale-like close.

 

[Roger Knox]

I would like to give special praise to his Symphony No. 3 with chorus (1906), which has been included on the recent TC Choral Symphonies thread. This is certainly one of Ropartz's best symphonies, and the favourite of many. See the recording's cover shown in post#117 above. It was soon followed by Symphony No 4 (1910), another fine work. On the Timpani label it is paired with Symphony No.1, as is Symphony No. 2 with No. 5 (see post #118 above).

Some of Ropartz's later orchestral compositions were in a more modern style, including the Petite Symphonie (1943) and Symphony No. 5 (1945). He also wrote lighter works throughout his career. As for concertante pieces, listeners to his symphonies will not be surprised by the instrument featured in two of them: Lamento for oboe and orchestra (1887) and Pastorale et Dances for oboe and orchestra (1907).

Because of limited time, I'm now going to discuss Magnard's Symphonies No. 1 and No. 2. Then I will do a comparison of both composers' No. 3's, and finally compare both No. 4's. Got it?

 

[Roger Knox]

Albéric Magnard's Symphony No. 1 (1889) is a tremendous accomplishment by the 24-year-old composer. In the exciting opening movement, phrases are numerous creating a short-breathed quality, harmony is fast in chord changes and nimble in key changes, and in a fugato we see his penchant for counterpoint. "Romantic counterpoint" may seem to be an odd phrase but it applies to Magnard whose skill is astonishing to me. The opening theme will recur in later movements, a simple application of César Franck's cyclic principle. The movement's ending is sublime. Following is a movement marked Religioso. It has the feel of a hymn or procession building to massed forces. Interestingly the strings carry the main theme, while the brass contributes agile counter-melodies. The third movement opens like a scherzo where chromatic motion and unpredictable harmonies in the strings suggest night spirits. Then there is a contrasting major key chorale from the winds, followed by the strings, and contrapuntal complexity increases. In the finale there is an assertive march-like version of the theme while a more lyrical section follows. At the close, the chorale melody from the second movement is delivered magnificently by the brass surrounded by arpeggiating strings.

The Symphony No. 2 (1893) by Magnard certainly has one thing in common with Ropartz's No. 2 - their slow movements are particularly beautiful. I find that these two are alive in bringing forward beauty in any of its dimensions - such as melody, sound, mood - to the level of profound moments. The Magnard's opening movement is lively and fresh sounding, with the composer's trademark modulations and counterpoint. It is followed by a movement called Danses vif - which starts like music for folk dancing but becomes much more developed. There is a suggestion of piping with a sustained drone and flutes on top. The afore-mentioned slow movement is called Chant varié, in whose sonorous opening wind lines are effectively woven through the spellbinding string passages. In the contrasting middle section, a moving oboe solo over a two-chord ostinato, with sustained high strings, is breathtaking. With the finale, marked Vif et gai, a dance feeling again is created; this time there is alternation between the fast opening music and slower lyrical interludes.

Concerning recordings of Nos. 1 & 2, I listened to the finely-conducted Toulouse Capital Orchestra/Michel Plasson, available on Warner Classics. But for superior sound and orchestral playing, I suggest checking out the 2020 recordings by the Freiburg Philharmonic/Fabrice Bolton on Naxos that have received excellent reviews.

 

[progmatist]

8. Cesar Franck:

--Le Chasseur Maudit:

Franck's Le Chasseur Maudit (The Accursed Huntsman) remains a favorite of mine by any composer, not just French romantic composers.

 

[Josquin13]

I expect some people will agree that Charles Koechlin is a neglected composer, or an acquired taste?, but there also seems to be some agreement that his works run the gamut in terms of quality, ranging from the strikingly original and highly imaginative, to the dull and ponderous, even routine. Over the past decade, I've become a fan of Koechlin's music, but sometimes I find that his music lasts longer than the sum of his best ideas. For instance, it's not uncommon for a Koechlin work to last 45-65 minutes. Yet, at other times I find myself entranced throughout the duration of a Koechlin piece, & am willing to accept its length as a necessary process for Koechlin to create a quiet, meditative, Zen-like experience for his listener: one that is intoxicating, somber, peaceful, mysterious, solitary, mystical, hazy and languid, but also occasionally mixed with a sense of nostalgia, forlornness, and regret. Conversely, his music can also be harrowing, eccentric, and agitated. There are times when Koechlin writes with a disarming simplicity, while at other times he composes complex, chromatic fugues and lush harmonies, which in his symphonic works can envelope the listener in a wall of orchestral sound.

According to his biographer, Robert Orledge, Koechlin was a polymath with diverse interests in astronomy, philosophy, literature, etc. Therefore, it's hardly surprising to find a strong degree of eclecticism in Koechlin's music: both in terms of his use of varied musical styles--such as Impressionism, Romanticism, Neo-Classicism, Modernism, & a reliance on Baroque counterpoint, but also his utilization of a wide range of subject matter--such as Breton folksongs, Hollywood movie stars, pantheism, Orientalism, Hellenistic culture, nature, astronomy, etc. He would have made a fantastic film composer, had Hollywood ever taken notice. For me, there is indeed something cinematic about how Koechlin's orchestral music is sometimes conceived in non-symphonic terms. Koechlin also taught composition in the United States, like his friend, Darius Milhaud, so he must have had an influence on the American composers of his day, and therefore it seems likely that that influence extended towards film composers (like Milhaud's). It would be an interesting subject to explore in more depth....

That Koechlin was a highly skilled, brilliant orchestrator is in no doubt. His four-volume "Traité de l'orchestration"(1935-1943) is regarded as a reference work on the subject, and along with his orchestral music, prompted conductor Heinz Holliger to describe Koechlin as a "alchemist of sounds". I like that description, & find it apt. Hence, it doesn't surprise me that both Claude Debussy and Gabriel Faure asked Koechlin to orchestrate works for them: Faure his "Pelleas et Melisande" when Koechlin was his pupil, and Debussy his late ballet "Khamma", when Debussy was too ill to do so himself towards the end of his life (though Debussy worked closely with Koechlin, so the orchestration may not be entirely Koechlin's, although he gets credit for it). (By the way, interestingly, Koechlin wrote the first biography of his teacher, Faure, published in 1927.)

--Khamma:

--Pelleas et Melisande:

To my ears, Koechlin had a rare ability to match and blend instrumental timbres. He was particularly drawn to unusual instruments and combinations of instruments, such as the Ondes Martenot and Saxophone. He also wrote brilliantly for various combinations of woodwinds. In his chamber music, Koechlin's keen ear for matching various woodwinds & strings can remind me a bit of F.J. Haydn. Indeed, there is a Haydnesque charm in some of Koechlin's chamber works for woodwinds, despite that the music sounds more modern. For example, it's interesting to compare the following two works, especially in relation to Haydn's boisterous 1st movement & Koechlin's 2nd movement:

--Koechlin Trio for Oboe, Clarinet, and Bassoon, Op. 206 (1945):

--Haydn London Trio:

Nor are Koechlin's woodwind pieces the only place in his opus where I am reminded of Haydn. His String Quartet No. 1 is another piece of music that has a Haydn like charm, as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdDBqx79PFw; along with his remarkable "Suite en quatour", Op. 55 (1911/1915):

. (By the way, I consider Koechlin's first String Quartet to be one of the finest quartets of the French 'impressionist' era, but as with so much of his music, I've also found that I had to listen to the quartet several times before I began to fully appreciate how masterful & beautiful it is.)

In Koechlin's orchestral music, we don't always hear these instrumental timbres being matched and blended quite as individually or intimately as in his chamber music. Yet the same keen ear and deft understanding of counterpoint is at work creating larger masses of instrumental colors and shades.

Koechlin seems to have particularly enjoyed making orchestrations and arrangements of his own chamber and solo works. There are two versions of a number of his major works--the one being a later orchestration or instrumental arrangement of the earlier, original solo or chamber work. His Symphony no. 1, Op. 57bis, for instance, is an 1926 orchestration of his 1915-16 String Quartet No. 2:

--Symphony no. 1, Op. 57bis (orchestral version, 1926, recorded by the ORTF, conducted by Manuel Rosenthal):

--String Quartet, no. 2, Op. 57 (1911-16):

Koechlin's symphonic output can be confusing, as well, since there are only two numbered symphonies out of four or five (being that there is an earlier fragment symphony, which Koechlin abandoned--the Symphony in A major, 1893-1908). When I first heard Koechlin's Symphony no. 2, Op. 196, composed between 1943-44, I remember being tempted to interpret its harrowing, darkly chromatic, fugal 1st movement as an expression of Koechlin's anquished, even tormented response to the Nazi occupation of Paris and the horrors of World War II in 1943-44. Here is the symphony performed by the London Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Constantin Silvestri, & recorded by the BBC in a radio broadcast:

. While Koechlin's Symphony no. 1, Op. 57bis music was, as mentioned, orchestrated in 1926 but completed earlier during the midst of World War 1 in 1915-16 as his String Quartet No. 2. Hence, I wonder if the stark mood of its similarly fugal 1st movement reflects Koechlin's response to the darkened world of WWI? It's interesting that Koechlin's only two numbered symphonies were composed during the nightmares of the 20th century's two great wars--both of which he lived through and survived.

Frustratingly, neither Koechlin's Symphony No. 1 nor No. 2 have been officially recorded, to my knowledge. I've only ever heard Koechlin's 2nd Symphony in the live BBC radio broadcast that I linked to above, a recording that has never made it onto CD (probably because the original BBC tape is damaged in spots). While I've only ever heard his Symphony No. 1 in the French radio broadcast that I linked to above, conducted by Ravel's student, Manuel Rosenthal. Which has me wondering if either work gets performed in the concert hall? and if not, what has made these two symphonies so prohibitive for orchestras to perform and record? Is it that they open with darkly chromatic, harrowing 1st movements? Or do orchestral programmers & recording executives simply not know about them?

In addition, there are a number of movements from Koechlin's orchestral works that have become popular as "symphonic poems". For example, the following four movements from Koechlin's "Le Livre de la Jungle" cycle (based on Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book") get performed and recorded as independent symphonic works:

--Les Bandar-log, Op. 175:

.
--La Course de printemps, Op. 95:

--La Méditation de Purun Bhaghat, Op. 159:

--La loi de la Jungle, Op. 175:

For the complete work, here's a link to David Zinman's world premiere recording of the entire "Le Livre de la Jungle", which is comprised of the four symphonic poems mentioned above, along with three orchestral songs:

Here too is a link to the complete "Le Livre de la Jungle" from a 2006 'visual arts' production by François Boucq, which I discovered on You Tube:

.

"The Jungle Book" is probably Koechlin's most recorded orchestral work to date, considering that in addition to Zinman's recording, there are also recordings by conductors Stuart Bedford & the Orchestre National de Montpellier, and Leif Segerstam & the Rheinland-Pfalz Philharmonic: https://www.chandos.net/products/catalogue/MP 3484.

As for his other symphonies, Koechlin's intriguing "Symphonie d'Hymnes" (1936) is, according to Wikipedia, a cycle of "previously-composed independent movements". However, Wiki doesn't tell us what these movements are, so I can't say whether they've been recorded or not, only that the "Symphonie d'Hymnes" itself has never been recorded. Frustratingly, if I knew what these previously composed movements were that made up the "Symphonie d'Hymnes", and if they'd been recorded, I could give people some idea about the content of the work. But until then, or until some record label contracts an orchestra to record it, I expect the symphony will remain a mystery.

EDIT: I've just made a discovery. I found out that conductor Franz André and the Orchestre National de la R.T. F. recorded the "Hymne à la Nuit" from the Symphonie d'Hymnes in 1960:

. So apparently, that's one movement from the symphony. Which has me now wondering if Koechlin's "Hymne au soleil" might be another movement?, which seems likely:

. But where's the rest?!

Of Koechlin's remaining symphonies, the only other work that has been recorded is "The Seven Stars Symphony", Op. 132 (1933), and I believe it's been done twice. I own the James Judd recording and like it:

. The symphony derives from Koechlin's fascination with various Hollywood movie actors of the time, during Hollywood's "golden" era. Each of its seven movements corresponds to a different movie "star"--Douglas Fairbanks, Lilian Harvey, Greta Garbo, Clara Bow, Marlene Dietrich, Emil Jannings, and Charlie Chaplin. Interestingly, Koechlin had a film crush on Lilian Harvey at the time and wrote "imaginary" film scores (such as "The Portrait of Daisy Hamilton" for Lilian and himself!) and works dedicated to her, such as his "L'Album de Lilian", Books 1 & 2, and "Sept Chansons pour Gladys, Op. 151. He also composed works in tribute to other early Hollywood icons, such as his "Dances pour Ginger" Op. 163, for the actress, singer & dancer Ginger Rogers:

, and the "Epitaph de Jean Harlow", Op. 164, written upon the death of actress Jean Harlow in 1937:

.

In addition, Koechlin orchestrated two of his finest works for solo piano into larger arrangements: (1) his "Les Heures persanes", Op. 65 (or "The Persian Hours"), which he orchestrated for a full orchestra, and (2) his "Paysages et Marines", Op. 63b, which he arranged for a chamber ensemble during the last year of his life. The first is considered a major orchestral work by Koechlin & has received two excellent recordings from conductors Segerstam & Holliger. While the latter has also been recorded twice, but has yet to receive the kind of recognition that it deserves, IMO (its neglect is likely due to the arrangement being made much later in Koechlin's life in 1949-50, long after the 'impressionist' era had passed):

--Les Heures persanes (1913/1919), recorded by Leif Segerstam:

--Les Heures persanes (1913/1919), recorded by Heinz Holliger. By the way, the following You Tube clip includes both the piano version (played by Michael Korstick) and the orchestral version:

.

--Paysages et Marines, the chamber version, performed by Ensemble Zurich, led by Christoph Keller:

--Paysages et Marines, the piano version, played by Michael Korstick:

.

Koechlin also orchestrated his "Offrande musicale sur le nom de Bach", Op. 187 (or "Musical Offering on the name of Bach"), which was composed in 1942 as a solo piano work, & orchestrated in 1946. It's an intriguing late work that looks back in homage to Bach & the Baroque era. Sadly, Koechlin had hoped to hear the orchestrated version performed before he died (along with his late symphonic poem, "Le Buisson Ardent"--see below), but the piece wasn't premiered until 1973:

To add to these, Koechlin also orchestrated (1) his Sonatines Françaises for piano, Op. 63, (2) his Horn Sonata into the "Poéme for horn and orchestra, Op. 70bis, which is a beautiful work:

, (3) his 20 Chansons Bretonnes for cello and piano into his 20 Chansons Bretonnes for cello and orchestra, Op. 115, (4) his two 1946 Clarinet Sonatas into his Sonatas for clarinet and chamber orchestra, Opp. 85bis & 86bis, and (5) his Ballade for solo piano into his Ballade for piano and orchestra, Op. 50:

.

However, not all of Koechlin's important works are recycled orchestrations or chamber arrangements of his earlier works. His 2 Sonatines for oboe d'amore and chamber orchestra, Op. 194 from 1942-43, for instance, doesn't exist in an earlier version. & IMO, it's a masterwork that is well worth getting to know in the one recording that has been made to date by the combined groups, Ensemble Initium and Ensemble Contraste (although I prefer Ensemble Zurich's performance of the coupling on this CD, which is the chamber arrangement of "Paysages et Marines"):

.

Koechlin composed a number of other interesting symphonic poems that are worth hearing, too:

Here are three (or four) of them, in recordings by Leif Segerstam:

--Le Buisson Ardent, Op. 203/Op. 171 (1933/45):

--Au Loin (1900), Op. 20, no. 2, from Koechlin's 2 Pieces symphoniques, Op. 20, which is paired with En reve, Op. 20, no. 1. But I don't think "En Reve" has ever been recorded? It's too bad that Segerstam didn't record the two Op. 20 works together:

--Sur les flots lointains, Op. 130:

& here are links to four more Koechlin orchestral works, recorded by Heinz Holliger:

--Vers la voûte étoiléee, Op. 129 (1923/1933, rev. 1939):

--Le Doctor Fabricius (1941-46): which is based on a novel by Koechlin's uncle, Charles Dollfus:

--Chante funébre à la mémoire des jeunes femmes defuntes:

--2 Poemes Symphoniques, Op. 43--no. 2: "Vers la Plage lointaine":

There are also choral works by Koechlin that involve an orchestra, such as his Requiem des pauvres bougres for chorus, orchestra, piano, organ, and Ondes Martenot, Op. 161 (1936-37). But, to my knowledge, the orchestral version of his Requiem has never been recorded. I only know Koechlin's Requiem from a recording of the final choral movement in a version for solo organ:

Given that Koechlin's teacher, Faure, composed a beautiful Requiem himself, it would be interesting to hear Koechlin's Requiem. It's also worth pointing out Koechlin's use of the Ondes Martenot in its orchestration. The Ondes Martenot was invented by Maurice Martenot in 1928, and it was an instrument that appears to have held a special interest for Koechlin. Not only does he use it in his Requiem, but he also uses it in his late symphonic poem, "Le Buisson Ardent", his "Vers le soleil" or 7 monodies for Ondes Martenot, Op. 174:

, and his "L'album de Lilian", Book 2, for flute, piano, harpsichord, and Ondes Martenot, Op. 149:

. So apparently, while Pierre Boulez was complaining that Koechlin's music wasn't modern enough for the times, Olivier Messiaen was taking note?, as Messiaen likewise developed an interest in composing for the Ondes Martenot. I wonder if Messiaen heard one of Koechlin works for the instrument?, and decided that it had the right sound for his Turangalila-Symphonie, where the Ondes Martenot figures prominently. Scholars often emphasize the influence of Claude Debussy on Messiaen's work, but to my mind, Koechlin's influence on Messiaen may be an even stronger one.

Yet despite the efforts of conductors Holliger, Segerstam, & others, it remains difficult to assess Koechlin's orchestral output. Apparently, he was a hugely prolific composer, and many of his works remain unrecorded. It's also difficult to assess some of the lesser known symphonic works that have only been recorded in very poor sound: such as, for instance, his symphonic poem, "Nuit de Walburgis classique", Op. 38:

. As a result, I feel like I have a better grasp & understanding of Koechlin's chamber music, and his complete output for the solo piano than I do his orchestral and choral output.

P.S. Lastly, on the pronunciation of Koechlin's last name: it isn't "Kay-klin", since "ay" is a diphthong, but rather a shorter "é" sound as in "Ké-klan". I've found it a surprisingly difficult name to get a handle on myself, and it may help to listen to how the BBC radio announcer pronounces Koechlin's name on the spoken introduction to Silvestri's performance, linked above.

EDIT 2: Or better yet, here's a You Tube clip of a woman--a French Bollywood actress, with the same last name, speaking on how to pronounce her name at the opening of the clip:

.

So, I got wrong. Evidently, "Koechlin" is pronounced "Kék-la" or "Kékla". Which, if correct (& I assume she knows how to pronounce her own last name), means that the BBC announcer got it wrong, too, since he pronounced the "n" at the end of Koechlin's name, which is apparently silent.

 

[Josquin13]

EDIT 3: I wanted to add that I've just now learned the French Bollywood actress that I linked to at the end of my last post, Kalki Koechlin, is a descendent of Koechlin's family!, and distantly related to the composer (& I think you can see a family resemblance in her physiognomy): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koechlin_family. Which of course gives full credence to how she pronounces her family name, as "Kék-la".

 

[Art Rock]

Well, here's one name I have been mispronouncing all my life. I thought it would have the German pronunciation, expecting it to derived from the Alsace (part of France which was German once, and where German is still spoken widely). It turns out that the family name indeed originally hails from the Alsace, but that by the time the composer was born (in Paris) it had acquired the pronunciation as described above.

 

[mikeh375]

Gotta say that I always read and appreciate Josquin13's posts.

 

[Roger Knox]

I expect some people will agree that Charles Koechlin is a neglected composer, or an acquired taste?, but there also seems to be some agreement that his works run the gamut in terms of quality, ranging from the strikingly original and highly imaginative, to the dull and ponderous, even routine. Over the past decade, I've become a fan of Koechlin's music, but sometimes I find that his music lasts longer than the sum of his best ideas. For instance, it's not uncommon for a Koechlin work to last 45-65 minutes. Yet, at other times I find myself entranced throughout the duration of a Koechlin piece, & am willing to accept its length as a necessary process for Koechlin to create a quiet, meditative, Zen-like experience for his listener: one that is intoxicating, somber, peaceful, mysterious, solitary, mystical, hazy and languid, but also occasionally mixed with a sense of nostalgia, forlornness, and regret. Conversely, his music can also be harrowing, eccentric, and agitated. There are times when Koechlin writes with a disarming simplicity, while at other times he composes complex, chromatic fugues and lush harmonies, which in his symphonic works can envelope the listener in a wall of orchestral sound.

Many thanks to josquin13 for this wonderful report on Charles Koechlin's orchestral music. Koechlin's catalogue is very confusing, and there are many gaps in his list of recorded of compositions. Josquin13 has laid it all out clearly, and you won't find better information or a better presentation anywhere. Really, we are blessed! Plus there are a number of important questions raised and I hope readers will respond with comments and questions. So, let's get listening, and bravo, Josquin13!

 

[Roger Knox]

I found out that conductor Franz André and the Orchestre National de la R.T. F. recorded the "Hymne à la Nuit" from the Symphonie d'Hymnes in 1960:

. So apparently, that's one movement from the symphony. Which has me now wondering if Koechlin's "Hymne au soleil" might be another movement?, which seems likely:

. But where's the rest?!.

Concerning Koechlin's Symphonie d'Hymnes, (1936), Josquin13 mentions the two component movements that were recorded: the "Hymne à la Nuit," and the "Hymne au soleil". The following lists that I found on the Musicalics and IMSLP web sites correlate the five movements of the Symphonie d"Hymnes with the five source works. Compare the opus numbers; the added "a" indicates revision:

Koechlin - Symphonie d'Hymnes (1936)

https://musicalics.com/en/composer/Charles-Koechlin/Symphonie-dHymnes

1. Hymne au soleil : Ut majeur - op.127
2. Hymne au jour - op.110
3. Hymne à la nuit - op. 48a
4. Hymne à la jeunesse - op.148
5. Hymne à la vie - op. 69a

Koechlin - Sources of Symphonie d'Hymnes

https://imslp.org/wiki/List_of_works_by_Charles_Koechlin

Op.127 - Hymne au soleil or "Fugal choral in C" for orchestra (Symphony of Hymns), Feb. 1933
Op.110 - Hymne au jour or Hymne for ondes Martenot and orchestra (from the Symphonie d'Hymnes), September 1929, orchestration 1932
Op.48 - L'Eté (symphonic poem in two parts), 1908-1911
Op.148 - Hymne à la jeunesse (symphonic poem based on the first chapter of André Gide's Voyage d'Urien) Symphony of hymns, September 1934, orchestration 1935
Op.69 - Hymne à la vie (orchestra and double choir), 1918-1919

The score for Symphonie d'Hymnes exists.

 

[mparta]

I have recently made a stab at the Zinman Jungle Book, still don't get it.

Try again.

 

[Roger Knox]

I have recently made a stab at the Zinman Jungle Book, still don't get it.

Try again.

Thanks, mparta -- having listened to it once, I haven't gotten into this work either.

Does one need to know Kipling's Jungle Books stories? Or is it the music itself?

I like some early, short, meditative Koechlin works: Au Loin, op. 20, no. 2 (In the Distance; 1900) and the nocturne Vers la plage lointaine, op. 43, no. 2 (Towards the Faraway Shore; 1916). Josquin13 also mentions symphonic poems Vers la voûte étoilée, Op. 129 (In the Starry Vault; 1923/1933, rev. 1939) and Sur les flots lointains, op. 130 (On the Distant Billowing Waves, 1933, based on a melody by C.M. Umer), which begins calmly but ends intensely. Some earlier orchestral works have not been recorded or are unavailable.

 

[Roger Knox]

Before returning to Joseph-Guy Ropartz and Albéric Magnard, here are some more facts and ideas about Charles Koechlin:

1. Au loin, mentioned in post #132 above, is orchestrated from Koechlin's work of the same title for English horn and piano (1896). In the original version, the players' expressiveness makes it sound more passionate and romantic than it is in the calm orchestral arrangement.
2. The title of Sur les flots lointains, is given in post #132 as "based on a melody by C.M. Umer." Catherine Umer was a student and later associate of Koechlin. My translation of "chant," as "melody," should be changed to "song."
3. If looked at chronologically, Koechlin's diverse orchestral compositions make more sense. He was active as a composer for over sixty years, during which of course his style and that classical music changed. The compositions can be grouped chronologically (e.g. as in post #132), and cycles of compositions such as Les heures persannes (The Persian Hours) should be noted.
4. To add to my comment about Koechlin's Jungle Books cycle: it is modernist, each symphonic poem is different, and my response to it has been much slower than to the other works discussed in post #132. Most of Koechlin's music was modernist (in his own way) from the 1920's to the end of his life.

And please spend some more time with josquin13's long post above. It really is worth it.

 

[Gargamel]

There are a few recordings of Tournemire's symphonies, a set (not sure about completeness) from Moscow with Antonio de Almeida, then a couple of discs with symphonies 3-8. I have the most available one, which is of the 6th, and have listened and enjoyed but not closely enough to hold forth.

He wrote extensively for organ, and there's a fascinating series of recordings of L'Orgue Mystique, a huge set of pieces (14 discs?) which accompany the classical Roman liturgy. I'm particularly drawn to the versions (Sandro Mueller on Cybele) that have covers featuring the art by Eva Krause, but highly suggestive of Odilon Redon, a fascinating lithographer and "illustrator"--(I don't think he would like that) of classic 19th century symbolist works and poetry, Poe (they took him in as one of their own), Baudelaire, Mallarme, Flaubert (the Temptation of St. Anthony). So the interest in the music and the association with that thread of late 19th century decadent culture and literature seems to make for a heady mix, to say the least. The literary association with organ music and Catholicism and the French decadent movement has its pinnacle in A Rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans. It is a nutty ride of a novel if ever there were one. And then on to Michel Houllebecq, whose central character in Soumission is a Huysmans scholar.

Waiting for the symphonies, when I listen, I'll mention.

Tournemire 5 could easily be mistaken for Max Reger, it's so imposing.

 

[Roger Knox]

Much has been written about the symphonies of Joseph-Guy Ropartz and Albéric Magnard; I hope to add something a bit different here. Comparing their Third Symphonies (1906 and 1896 respectively), we notice that Magnard's was completed ten years earlier than Ropartz's. It has the conventional four movements, as does Ropartz's. But the Ropartz features four soloists and chorus, with his own text. It opens with an impressive ascent from the low register, culminating in the choral statement, "Let us love each other." I sense a continuous melodic line running through the movement in which the text invokes sun, sea, forest and plain. Spectacular strings lead to a joyous coda. The Magnard begins with a slow Introduction where mysterious open fifths and fourths are followed a dialogue between thematic strings and chordal winds. A fast sonata-allegro form movement features an extensive development section with fugato and constant modulation. The Introduction's music, now including rushing strings, returns at the close. Ropartz's ABA form second movement begins slowly. It features each of the four soloists in turn deploring our inhumanity, followed by a procession-like fugue. The middle section is a fast, spiky scherzo. Magnard's second movement is the opposite, with the fast scherzo in the outer sections and with great energy towards the close.

Ropartz's major-key Adagio, for orchestra alone, excels in feeling and imaginative harmony. Its Finale begins with a march-like trumpet theme over tramping accompaniment. This minor-key movement is a seven-part rondo that ends impressively in the tonic major key with full brass chords - the chorus having called for compassion and an end to selfishness. Magnard's moving third movement is a Pastorale where a melancholy minor-key oboe solo begins, and modal inflections toward the end create a sublime effect. A bell-like ostinato recurs many times in the Finale, while sustained long notes below evolve into a solo brass melodic line of tremendous power.

What I like above all in both works in their sincere, open-hearted passion that avoids overwhelming blatancy and invites repeated hearings. Ropartz's harmony is more diatonic and modal - perhaps a Celtic influence from his native Britanny -- than Magnard's, a difference heard especially in the latter's first-movement chromaticism. There does not seem to be any aspect of musical style that is weak in either work, and there are far more beauties than could be mentioned in the skeletal paragraph above. Both composers were expert orchestrators and formidable contrapuntists. Lastly, the text to Ropartz's choral symphony was his plea to a France that was divided at the time over the Dreyfus Affair. That event had been taken up already by Magnard in his Hymne à la Justice, op. 14 (1902). There is a sense of purpose and optimism in the works of these two fast friends that shines through more than a hundred years after their creation.

 

[Roger Knox]

Tournemire 5 could easily be mistaken for Max Reger, it's so imposing.

Thank you for your post, I find his symphonies imposing too.

mparta and I commented on Tournemire 7 in posts #85-92. I plan to write something on no. 6. Proceeding backward for some reason(?), the rest of the Tournemire symphoniesare open.

I haven't listened to no. 5 yet but if you or anyone else would expand on your comment please feel welcome. Posts don't need to be long either!

 

[Roger Knox]

Now we will compare the Fourth Symphonies of Albéric Magnard (1913) and Joseph-Guy Ropartz (1908-11). The Magnard is a special work for many others as well as me. Completed in the year before his tragic death in World War I, it comes as both a summing up of his multi-faceted art and a leap forward in symphonic practice and powerful expression. It has the standard four movements, while the compact Ropartz is in three movements played without a break. In this work the second movement functions as a combined "scherzo" and slow movement, alternating between Allegretto and Adagio sections. The two works also follow different emotional trajectories. Magnard's in C# minor begins with a shocking rapid rising figure that to me suggests flames rising from the orchestra. From this crisis it continues with a lyrical theme, but rising motifs carry forward an aspirational suggestion. The movement flows beautifully and it includes a disjunct melody that will appear later on. The scherzo follows with a heavily accented motif. A solo fiddle, oboe, and plucked string instrument all suggest a rustic gathering. The opening movement of Ropartz's symphony in C major begins with an upward motif that is extended on each recurrence, giving a striving effect. But here it is in the development section that a sense of crisis emerges with an insistent two-note semitone call. Overall this symphony is more motif-based than Ropartz's Third. After the development section a long retransition over a sustained pedal note leads to the recapitulation, which opens with the earlier upward motif sounding triumphantly on the trumpet.

The slow movement of Magnard's Fourth is a thing of beauty -- serious, perhaps hymn-like, with chordal string passages that are slightly troubling at times. The texture changes in a tonally restless section with trilling accompaniment. A tremendous build-up climaxes triumphantly in E major, the relative of the work's key of C# minor, and then the ending is quiet. Wondering how Magnard could have anything left for the Finale, I listened in awe. Opening with a march rhythm, it gets busier until of all things a fugue breaks out, an exciting, extended one. Afterward comes the apotheosis. The disjunct first movement melody reappears in accordance with the cyclic principle, with a full orchestral chorale closing in the tonic major key. Ropartz's combined scherzo-slow movement is original. Of the Allegretto sections, the first is folk-like and the second contrapuntal, while the first lyrical Adagio contrasts with the later chromatic one that has Wagnerian overtones. The Finale opens in C minor; it is in ¾ time with a 2+2+2 cross-rhythm. Lovely wind solos in the major key are succeed by the opening minor-key theme, but the movement comes to rest in C major with a slow organ-like passage.

Magnard surpassed himself in his Fourth, yet Ropartz's Fourth has many attractions too. It is difficult to make generalizations about their similarities and differences. Perhaps the above descriptions will provide some clues. Concerning recordings, josquin13's recommendations for Ropartz's earlier symphonies also hold for these ones. As for Magnard, I was going to mention the recent Freiberg Philharmonic/Bollon set again. Nevertheless, after coming across a David Hurwitz rave about the magnificence of Magnard's Fourth I'll pass on his strong preference for the Malmo Symphony/Thomas Sanderling recording of the composer's nos. 2 and 4 on BIS (2000). Hurwitz goes on to say he and Sanderling agreed that Magnard 4 is a masterpiece. He thinks a major large orchestra should record it and that it should receive frequent performances. So I don't have to add anything except "Amen."

 

[Roger Knox]

Three important French composers were born in 1870 - Florent Schmitt, Charles Tournemire, and Louis Vierne (1870-1937). While Vierne is known mainly as a composer of organ music, his Symphony in A minor (1907-8) shows him to be a versatile creator with a definite concept of style. Where his fellow-organist Charles Tournemire is in his symphonies mystical and spacious, Vierne is formal and compact. In this four-movement late romantic symphony, the outer movements are in sonata-allegro form while the inner ones - Lamento and Scherzo - are ternary.

The first movement's Grave opening sets a tragic mood, a ponderous rhythm in the deep bass register alternating with a triadic variant. The Allegro that follows features an insistent and energetic motif in 6/8 time, after which things smooth out with the second theme and settle into the relative key of C major. I feel that the development and recapitulation overwork the insistent motif, with too much repetition and sequence in foursquare phrases. Vierne's music is harmonically and contrapuntally sophisticated, though. The following movement, marked Lamento, features a sighing motif and solos for the clarinet and English horn over nervous strings. The strings take up the main theme and in the middle section the tempo picks up leading to a crisis point.

The work is grouped into two parts; the second part begins with the scherzo third movement. There is a biting accent in the main string motif, which is answered by winds. The movement is stormy and it builds with the full orchestra in perpetual motion. Even in less relentless moments harmonies remain uneasy and a night mood prevails. But with the Finale the storm has passed. More optimistic themes resolve the previous anguish in the tonic A major key, and the work ends with a triumphant coda.

 

[Roger Knox]

Déodat de Séverac (1872-1921) came from the Languedoc region in southwestern France, and he drew inspiration from the region's music and other cultural traditions. He studied with top teachers in Paris and continued to live there, but in 1907 returned to his home region. He is a highly accomplished composer, particularly known for piano and vocal music. Nymphes au crépuscule (Nymphs at Dusk, 1900) is one of several symphonic poems and other orchestral works by him. Its style is impressionist - with whole tone scales, augmented triads, parallel perfect intervals, brief motifs, and wordless women's chorus - and the work bears obvious resemblances to Debussy's Sirènes (the third movement of his Nocturnes for orchestra [1899]). Which of the two works actually has priority is still under dispute as far as I can tell, but I have not investigated it further. In any case de Séverac's work is more forthright in expression than Debussy's -- the wordless chorus entering with a loud cry, for example -- and the mood is more urgent. It can be heard on YT, and the recording from which it is taken is available on Spotify: Déodat de Séverac: Works for Orchestra, Orchestre de la Suisse Romande/Roberto Benzi (RTS Radio Télévision Suisse/Evasion Music 2016).

Next up: Charles Tournemire 6 and countdown, Jean Roger-Ducasse, and Reynaldo Hahn.

 

[Roger Knox]

Particularly valuable to me is the Symphony No. 6 (1917-18) by Charles Tournemire (1870-1939), dedicated "to the suffering of the French people during World War I." It is based on Biblical texts and is one of the great choral symphonies, also featuring soloists and an augmented orchestra with an important organ role. The work is in two parts, in each of which the composer demonstrates an ability to grow a section and build to climaxes over long time spans. The opening of the first part suggests anxiety and despair with a single-voice violin line that wanders, a sort of modal chant that has lost its way. Gradually voices are added, wind instruments enter, all becomes faster and louder with motifs derived from the opening line now in a polyphonic texture. Moving into the tonic major key, the harmony becomes richer and there is a huge brassy crescendo. The chorus enters, written so as not to be overwhelmed by the full orchestra, as a state of war is reached. There are new sections, eventually coalescing into a march.

The second part begins with a soloist as the voice of Jesus with organ accompaniment. Strings emerge in a low register, followed by the chorus and the music suggests a lugubrious tramp. Abruptly a great "scherzo" begins in a very fast triple meter with frequent 2 + 2 + 2 cross-rhythms. An upward reaching motif is featured in the strings while the music becomes more relaxed. Yet underneath the triple meter motion still bubbles away, leading up to the spectacular entry of the organ on a long sustained chord. I can't help being reminded of a similar point in the Saint-Saëns Third Symphony where a blazing C major sonority enters. But in the Tournemire there is a dominant seventh chord, with more to come. There is an affecting tenor solo, followed by the orchestra arpeggiating upwards, until the final climax with an association of salvation being attained at last.

It is sobering to realize that Tournemire never got to hear his Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Symphonies, even though the last of them was completed fifteen years before his death. The composer was a devout Catholic and I think listeners can appreciate this composition in a number of different ways - dramatic, musical, historical, and religious. Currently available is this recording: Liège Philharmonic/Pierre Bartholomée (Naïve, 2001).