Mel Bonis, sometimes written Mel-Bonis, was the original Mel-B.
Born Mélanie Bonis, she married an industrialist by the name of
Albert Domange who, if wed out of duty rather than love, at least
ensured comfort of existence. A romance with the love of her youth,
Adémée Hettich, resulted in the birth of a daughter Madeleine,
whose existence was kept secret until after Albert’s death, and
was only revealed when her son Edouard later planned to marry
Madeleine.
The
pseudonym Mel Bonis was of course chosen to blur the feminine
origins of the composer’s work, but as far as her musical pedigree
was concerned she was the equal of many famous peers and contemporaries.
Her talents recognised by César Franck, she was admitted to
the Conservatoire in Paris and studied composition under Ernest
Guiraud. Among her fellow students were Gabriel Pierné and Claude
Debussy. Her studies were unfortunately cut short by her parents,
and, as a dutiful mother and wife, she only produced a few songs
and piano pieces.
As
good as forgotten for the last hundred years or so, Mel Bonis’s
work was much admired by her contemporaries, and, listening
to the earlier Quatuor No.1 it is easy to understand
why. The influence of César Franck is present, but infused with
some of the feminine character one finds in Bonis’s contemporary
Cécile Chaminade. Not, I hasten to add, that a blind hearing
would lead the ignorant ear automatically to conclude that this
is the work of a female composer – far from it, but some of
the pianistic gestures and romantic sensibilities and gestures
are the kind of thing I do associate with a piece like Chaminade’s
great Conservatoire test piece, the famous Concertino.
Like Franck, Bonis’s first piano quartet explores remote keys
through constant modulation, has a rich, fragrant romanticism
allied to finely structured musical arguments, and bold melodic
lines. This is highly attractive music, and world class in its
inventive confidence.
There
is no information about Soir, matin in the booklet notes,
but as the title suggests, this is a gentler work than the more
abstract Quatuor. Scored for piano, violin and cello,
the lighter texture suits the material well, and while the thematic
material is fairly evenly distributed the strings tend to lead
more – the piano imitating occasionally, but more often providing
rippling accompanying harmonies to the heart-on-sleeve melodic
lines.
More
than twenty years separate Bonis’s op.69 from her Quatuor
No.2 op.124. Written when she was nearly 70 years old, she
had suffered the deaths of her second husband and youngest son,
and had succumbed to deep depressions. She described the work
as her musical testament, but it was not performed during her
lifetime, and would have been considered hopelessly old-fashioned
at a time in which stars such as Stravinsky were all the rage.
Indeed, the idioms which pulsed through Bonis’s music at the
beginning of the century are similar to those which inhabit
her later work, but there is a refinement of the material at
work, and the romanticism seems gathered into tighter controls
and structures. There are newer syncopated rhythms running through
the accompaniment, and while on can never quite see the second
moderato movement breaking out into the jazz world of
Parisian Martinů, there are little moments which hint at
the possibility these influences might have been in the airwaves
somewhere. The third movement, lent, has an elegant ebb
and flow, with the occasional ‘semi-faux’ note which could be
suggestive of Ravel. The final allegro brings back the
weightier rippling piano and thematic progressions of Bonis’s
elder guides Saint-Saëns and Franck, and those of dedicatee,
Gabriel Pierné, who Bonis had met during Franck’s organ classes
and whom she held in high esteem.
I
must admit to never having heard of Mel Bonis before hearing this
beautifully recorded and performed programme of some of her most
important chamber music. This release proves that her contribution
to the romantic repertoire of the first half of the last century
has been unjustly neglected, and I can hardly imagine a better
calling card for her reinstatement.
Dominy Clements