Mélancolie, by Francis Poulenc, performed by Andre Previn
This diary started out simply enough to be about Poulenc's Oboe Sonata. I was pooped; wanted an easy diary. However, to my stunned dismay, the diary grew tentacles, became mobile and self-aware, and began to take over the world. "Feed me, Dumbo, feed me now!" it said. I was hypnotized, my mind turned to mush. I have no choice. I am its thrall.
During the time between the two world wars, about the same time that the Expressionists and Der Neue Sachlichkeit in Berlin were creating a subversive German artistic subculture, AS DIARIED HERE, somewhat similar networking events were afoot in Paris.
More below, including Les Six, Jean Cocteau, Erik Satie, Darius Milhaud, Germaine Taileferre (the first female composer we have covered) -- and maybe even cameo appearances by Pablo Picasso, Marcel Proust, Coco Chanel, and Gertrude Stein!
Les Six, left to right: Francis Poulenc, Germaine Taileferre, Louis Durey, Jean Cocteau, Darius Milhaud, Arthur Honegger. Sketch of Georges Auric on the wall behind them.
There was certainly an amount of PR promotion behind the creation of the image of "Les Six," who were basically six contemporary French composers of the period. And, despite the implications, their styles were hardly the same at all. However, they did know each other, they partied with each other, and they worked collaboratively with each other. If Bertolt Brecht was the non-musical hub of the wheel that was German post-expressionism, we might see an analogous role for Jean Cocteau in Les Six.
Cocteau: Poet, novelist, playwright, filmmaker, set designer, artist, boxing manager (?!!), choreographer, librettist, impresario, and opium addict. The boxing manager thing is another curious intersection with Brecht. And please note, nowhere in the above list do you see composer.
I've always known Cocteau best for his classic film, a true visual feast, Beauty and the Beast(1946), with music by Georges Auric. Here is a ten minute clip from the middle of the film. It's as good an introduction as I possibly can think of to the mind of Jean Cocteau.
Wikipedia on Beauty and the Beast(1946):
The film is notable for its surreal quality and its ability to use existing movie technology to effectively evoke a feeling of magic and enchantment. [...] In 1999, Chicago Sun Times critic Roger Ebert added the film to his "Great Movies" list, calling it "one of the most magical of all films." [...] Ranked #26 in Empire magazine's "The 100 Best Films Of World Cinema" in 2010.
But let's back up a little further to see how Les Six became "Les Six" rather than "Les Cinq" or "Les Sept. In 1917, music critic Henri Collet wrote an article lumping the six composers together with Erik Satie, comparing them to The Russian Five composers. Now, Satie, whom we all should remember from the famous and overplayedGymnopédie, had gathered them into his own creative circle. But Satie did not have the cult personality of a Cocteau, who saw in Satie's group an opportunity to fulfill his own vision of a new French avant-garde movement.
From Wikipedia on Les Six:
After World War I, Jean Cocteau and Les six began to frequent a bar known as "La gaya" which became Le bœuf sur le toit (The Ox on the Roof) when the establishment moved to larger quarters and as the famous ballet by Milhaud had been conceived at the old premises, the new bar took on the name of Milhaud's ballet.[1] On the renamed bar's opening night, pianist Jean Wiéner played tunes by George Gershwin and Vincent Youmans while Cocteau and Milhaud played percussion. Among those in attendance were Russian impresario Serge Diaghilev, Pablo Picasso, filmmaker René Clair, singer Jane Bathori, and Maurice Chevalier.
Oh, to have been a fly in that bar! The stories of Cocteau and the trendy circle of Parisian artistes make a namedropper's feast.
XXth Century -- ''Les Six'', Satie, and Cocteau:
... He [Cocteau] knew where to find a patron. Coco Chanel had complete confidence in him and never hesitated to pay his bills or create costumes for his avant-garde ballets such as Antigone (scored by Honegger) or Le train bleu (scored by Milhaud). Cocteau was also an habitué of Misia Sert's famous soirées, described in detail in pianist Arthur Rubinstein's memoirs. Anna de Noailles was his muse for many years, and he was also close to the Comtesse de Greffuhle and the Comtesse de Chevigné (whose combined image inspired Proust's Duchesse de Guermantes), as well as the Polignac and Étienne de Beaumont families. (To have [Marcel] Proust as a sponsor guaranteed you notoriety in Parisian society). Cocteau was, however, very eclectic in his butterfly progress, always on the lookout for the exceptional or the extraordinary among newcomers who might pique his interest. These included the poet Anna de Noailles, whom he raised to the heights before his interest cooled, Raymond Radiguet, whom he launched as a new literary fashion, and later actor Jean Marais and writer Jean Genet, to name a few. One may wonder whether Les Six were not sacrificed on the altar of Cocteau's overwhelming personality.
Indeed, Cocteau and his story are more interesting than the stories of the individual composers. Perhaps you can forgive me for indulging myself this way.
I won't embed it, but there's an interesting Youtube documentary clip here, Parade : Erik Satie Cocteau Picasso Diaghilev, in which Jean Cocteau himself relates (in English subtitles) the following partial anecdote about the making of his ballet Parade, commissioned by Serge Diaghilev (the Russian analogue to Brecht/Cocteau!) with music by Satie and art design by Picasso.
Cocteau: I thought that Satie and I needed Picasso. That's when I asked Picasso to collaborate with us. In the middle of the road between La Rotonde and La Dome -- There weren't many cars back then! He said that when we meet [Sergei] Diaghilev in Rome -- a kind of honeymoon -- we should announce our trip to Gertrude Stein. So we went to her house, Rue de Fleurus, and told her of our honeymoon. We went to Rome...
Hey Pablo! Let's drop in on Gertrude Stein! See what's kicking! Maybe Gertude's got croissants! To be honest, I didn't listen to the rest of the clip. Gertrude Stein...
I like to think that in an alternate universe, I hang out with all the same people. And eat croissants.
... But enough Cocteau! Enough Cocteau! What about these musicians?
In the first issue of Cocteau's magazine, Le Coq, composer Georges Auric wrote (and this is in the previous Scena article linked to):
"Because I grew up during the twilight of the Wagnerian gods and began composing amid the ruins of Debussyism, I feel that any imitation of Debussy in our day is nothing but scavenging." Thus wrote Georges Auric, calling for a fresh artistic approach to music in the first issue of Le Coq, published early in 1921.
This may sound a little strange, to you, at first. The piano piece at the top by Poulenc, for instance, has a Debussy sound to it, doesn't it? So the distinction is a subtle one, but the common denominator between Debussy and Poulenc is that they are still both French. So what is the difference.
In the same documentary clip, Cocteau points out the important difference between the style of Debussy and that of Satie and Les Six. Satie's music in particular, he says, is opposite of the Impressionistic style of Debussy and Ravel.
Cocteau: Satie had studied at La Schola Cantorum and lived amongst the Impressionists. But his music was the antithesis of Impressionist music. For instead of being vague, shimmering, and muted, his music was linear, without sauce, without veils.
Without veils. I remember that when we covered Impressionism, the one adjective that I used most frequently was "nebulous." Impressionism is deliberately veiled in mystery. The music of Les Six, although varying greatly in style, tends to be unveiled and frugal with few wasted notes. In fact, in Poulenc in particular, there's a distinct Mozart influence, even almost to the point of Mozart parody.
For example, here's the slow movement from the Mozart Piano Concerto #24 in C minor, performed by Vladimir Ashkenazy:
Listen to the whole thing, if you want, but at least pay attention to the first theme.
Now, compare that to the beginning of this next clip. Here is Poulenc himself, with Jaques Fevrer, performing Poulenc's Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra. Poulenc is the pianist with the big nose facing right.
There is a certain clarity and parsimony here not found in Debussy. But why do they still sound similar? And my own personal answer, my own humble opinion, is that they share a trait common in French music, of being life-positive. Contrast that with what was happening in German expressionism at time, its emphasis on horror, shock, psychosis, anxiety, and bitterness as the hidden and common root of human experience. German music, even German POPULAR music, like Kurt Weill, was much, much edgier as well, both politically and technically. At a time when Schoenberg and Webern were working hard to develop rules for a new musical style that would not contain the normal behavioral reward of the V-I cadence, French musicians were unashamed of a little sugar and sentiment in their music. It comes across, therefore, as much more traditional, which by comparison, it is. It also comes across, to me, as less competitive at a time when German music of the same period was in a frantic race for the extreme edges.
But I don't pass judgment on either camp in this. Different musical styles have not just different techniques, but different objectives and purposes. You don't judge a Bach fugue by the standards of Bluegrass, and you don't judge Duelin' Banjos by the standards of Baroque polyphony. Apples and oranges.
Poulenc is also famous for his choral works. I couldn't possibly resist posting a clip of one of his best, Domine Deus Agnus Dei from Poulenc's Gloria.
More of Les Six:
Darius Milhaud's Braziliera from Scaramouche, performed on three guitars (so much better this way!) rather than on piano.
And if you liked that, here's a more challenging latin-styled work by Milhaud, Corcovado from Saudades do Brazil, performed by Duo Hesperides.
You may have noticed the sole woman in the group photo of Les Six at the top, Germaine Taileferre. She deserves a diary of her own, one which I'm not informed well enough to provide. But she is famous for being one of the few successful women composers of the early twentieth century. Not that there weren't MANY female composers, but few ever received recognition or got their music out there.
Concertino for Harp and Piano, by Germaine Taileferre, performed by Cristina Ariagno and Gabriela Bosio.
Since Wikipedia doesn't flesh out the details for me, I'll try to provide as much backstory on Talieferre as I can recall. A child prodigy, she was admitted early to a prestigious music academy. However, her family was unaccepting of her continued insistence upon music and composition as a career. She disowned her own father and changed her name (from Taileserre to Taileferre, which may have some signifiance in French, not that I know). Moving to Paris, she was introduced by Maurice Ravel to other prominent French musicians, including the group to later be known as Les Six. She continued to compose up until her death in 1983. And if you're still listening to the Concertino piece, you're probably wondering why in the Hell you never heard of her before today.
About the Poulenc Sonata for Oboe and Piano
Composed in 1962 in memory to his friend, Sergei Prokofiev, it is believed to be his last composition. This is a short work, or I wouldn't try to cover the whole thing, made of three short movements totaling about 15 minutes altogether. It is rather tragic in character and is often performed at funerals. It is famous for being a difficult piece to perform, but you wouldn't guess that from the large host of amateur clips on Youtube of this being performed. Ultimately, though, I chose the one that sounded best performed and with the best audio of the available clips. And I will absolutely take no blame for the awful suit the guy in the clip is wearing. Normally that would be a deal killer right there, but I couldn't just find another clip that sounded as good.
Sonata for Oboe and Piano by Francis Poulenc, Opus 185, 1st movement Elegie, performed by Hansjörg Schellenberger
A sonata-form movement with an abbreviated development. It begins with a chromatic four note motif that will return.
The first theme at (0:16), lyrical and simple, with a slightly ominous accompaniment. The second theme at (1:46) again simple and lyrical, joyful. But at 2:29 it transforms itself into something harsh and ugly. As it trails off, we begin the development section at 3:09, the harsh, ugly motif dominating. The first theme gradually works its way back, to begin the recapitulation at 3:47. The final coda of the movement is very slow, almost bare, and lonely. The chromatic motif returns at the end.
Second movement, Scherzo
This is typical Poulenc, bright and playful. Note at 0:34, though, the return of that harsh motif from the development of the first. It's taken a new, more playful form, but it has a sinister edge to it.
At 1:21, the middle section of this ABA form scherzo begins. It is slower, more romantic in style. Buried in it is the harmony of the first movement first theme. And maybe I'm reading too much into this, but it is very Prokofiev-ish, reminding me of Prokofiev's balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet.
Third movement, Deploration
The pace slows down, way down. And the oboe, normally an instrument that sounds lonely, sounds VERY lonely, here. The piano accompaniment is broken and choked.
At 2:07, a middle section begins with a new theme, and it is based on the harsh theme from the first movement. It rises in intensity. And at 2:38, the piano part finally exerts with its own expression of grief.now, crowding out the oboe. At 3:09, the oboe reminds us of the happier, lyrical second theme from the first movement, but it is brief, unfinished.
At 3:35, the first section begins to repeat. But it is changed, weaker. The piano and oboe carry us out on a stretcher, to the end, in a foreign key, the final two chords on the piano brusque and final.
NEXT WEEK:
I have no idea! I'm trying to come up with ideas. But I'm starting to feel worn out with the twentieth century, and we might be headed into Bach territory soon.