Godard was born in Paris in 1849, entering the Conservatoire in 1863,
where he studied violin under Henri Vieuxtemps, and harmony with composer,
Napoléon Henri Reber, who was also Massenet’s teacher. In 1876, Godard’s
Concerto romantique for violin was performed at the Concerts
Populaires, along with other of his works. In 1878, he was co-winner of the
Prix de la Ville de Paris – rather than the more prestigious Prix de Rome –
for his dramatic symphony, ‘Le Tasso’, which still remains one of his most
admired works. From then until his death, his output was prolific, and
included eight operas – among them ‘Jocelyn’, from which comes the
‘Berceuse’ that remains arguably the Godard’s best-known piece. He became a
professor at the Conservatoire de Paris in 1887, and was made Chevalier of
the Légion d’honneur two years later. For a fuller biography, Katy
Hamilton’s sleeve-notes are most helpful.
Considering his extensive list of works – which also embraces
three symphonies,
two piano concertos, a significant amount of chamber music,
mostly including piano, and more than a hundred songs – his music fell out
of favour after his somewhat untimely death. It has been suggested that his
compositions are of unequal quality, if only because of his prodigious
productivity, and that he seems at his best in works of smaller
dimensions.
Despite being regarded during his lifetime as one of France’s most
promising young composers, as a musician of Jewish heritage, not only did
Godard loathe Wagner’s politics, but he was noted for his careful avoidance
of the German composer’s influence. He aligned himself musically more with
the earlier generations of Mendelssohn, Schumann, Chopin, and even
Beethoven. This, perhaps, is another reason Godard’s music all but
disappeared from the concert platform so soon after his death, which
happened to coincide with the appearance in print of the early works of
Debussy and Ravel. Against these new ideas and innovations, Godard's
works could seem decidedly conservative, and even old-fashioned.
The works on the present CD all appeared in print between 1879 and 1884,
and combine two substantial works – his two Piano Sonatas – with a
collection of piano miniatures. In fact the vast majority of Godard’s piano
music consists of character pieces often with descriptive titles, or cast in
forms familiar from the works of Chopin – barcarolles, waltzes, mazurkas and
nocturnes. As would often be the case with such repertoire, much was written
clearly with an eye to the vast and ever-growing market of amateur
musicians, and Godard even went so far as to publish a collection of Études,
Op. 149, divided by difficulty-level – beginners, students, amateurs and
‘artists’.
The two sonatas on the CD are clearly aimed at professional musicians or,
at least very talented amateurs, such are the technical demands made on the
performer. The
Sonata No. 2 in F minor, Op. 94 was written in 1884,
and within moments of the start of the opening ‘Allegro con moto ma non
troppo’ a number of interesting and varied textures present themselves,
where the principal melody seems to nod knowingly in the direction of the
old ‘Dies Irae’ chant. As the music becomes increasingly virtuosic, upward
chromatic chordal moves, and sections using Debussy’s whole-tone scale
combine to increase the overall tension. Towards the end the chant is
triumphantly given out in full chordal harmony, with modal elements lurking
not far away. Rapid scales close what certainly has been an stimulating and
inventive opening gambit. The ensuing slow movement – in the key of D flat
major – provides welcome respite, with its long-phrased lyricism, only to be
interrupted later by a more passionate section, over a moving bass-line,
with more than a hint here of Chopin, though where an occasional chord would
not quite be ready to appear in the Polish composer’s harmonic palette back
at the time, despite the chromatic feel to the writing. Tranquillity
eventually returns to conclude just over eight minutes of serene beauty.
The finale opens with some of the lightness of a Mendelssohn Scherzo, or
one of Grieg’s Lyric Pieces in similar mode. A more sustained section acts
as a contrasting Trio, before the opening Scherzo returns. This is followed
by a reference to the calmer chant-like theme from the opening movement,
before rapid scale-work rounds off what has effectively been a synthesis of
Scherzo and more-conventional finale – which its tempo marking,
‘Scherzo-Final: Allegro non troppo’, would clearly seek to convey.
Godard’s earlier
Sonate Fantastique in C major, Op. 63, which
follows on the CD, was published in 1881, and here each of the four
movements bears a descriptive title in the manner of a character piece. In
fact the movements were also available for purchase separately, suggesting
that the composer also envisaged them as discrete, stand-alone compositions.
The
Sonata opens with ‘Les Génies de la Fôret’ (‘Allegro vivace’)
and, with a degree of imagination on the listener’s part, the music could
certainly accord with its programme, though, for example, so could the
corresponding movement from the
Second Sonata, even though that has
no programme. Godard’s penchant for chorale-like sections is again evident,
as are the occasional integrated scale-passages, now both familiar from the
Sonata No. 2, though this opening ‘Allegro’ does feel a little more
rambling, in terms of overall structure versus length. A short, bravura
ending once more adds a showy finish. ‘Les Farfadets’: Scherzo, vivace ma
non troppo – provides the conventional dance element to this four-movement
sonata. ‘Farfadets’ are little fairies – rather like elves, or leprechauns’
– and are usually good-hearted, if not occasionally a little naughty. The
music certainly captures their character, written in triple time, where
chromatically-altered scales and leaps abound. A chordal section in the
major adds some contrast, and perhaps also attempts to provide cohesion
between these clearly separately-conceived movements. Unlike the ten minutes
or so of the previous movement, here Godard keeps the listener engaged for
virtually all of its three minutes or so. The third movement also involves a
fairy – but from the title – ‘La Fée d’Amour’: Quasi adagio – here we’re
talking love, rather than high-spirited frolics. Again, Godard is in his
element in this most passionate of slow movements – overtly lyrical in the
manner of one of Schumann’s most ardent Art-Songs. The finale – ‘Les Esprits
de la Mer’: Allegro vivace – is also a three-verse poem by the composer
himself; Godard was a keen poet and set his own words to music on several
occasions. According to the programme, the poem ‘reveals the dark intentions
of those sea spirits who break up the ships that cross their waves, and then
steal the sailors’ lives’. From the opening bars there is a restless
movement which conveys the spirit of the words – although something that
Liszt and others had already done before, equally as effectively. Harp-like
arpeggios finish things off calmly in the major key, as the water once more
becomes smooth and unruffled.
Of the four separate character pieces that complete the CD, two continue
the sea theme, a third involves fairies again, and another was one of the
few pieces by Godard to enjoy some popularity in the decades following his
death.
Promenade en Mer, Op. 86 (1862) brings to mind Chopin’s
‘Barcarolle’, although by contrast, the following piece,
Sur la Mer
(1879) is actually subtitled ‘Barcarolle’, yet represents a far choppier sea
than any gondolier would elect to sail on.
Sur la Mer in fact
returns more to the world of the finale of the
Sonate Fantastique.
However, while
Promenade en Mer confines itself very much to home
waters,
Sur la Mer steers off into more remote waters and keys,
before the opening section returns
Au Matin, Op 83 (mentioned above
as the piece that remained popular after his death) presents a simple melody
that is repeated and varied, over a lilting accompaniment, eventually
leading to an effective climax, with some by-now characteristic chromatic
chordal side-stepping in the harmonic mix. Godard composed two pieces
entitled
Conte de Fée – ‘fairy tale – of which Op 62 (1882) is the
first. Based on a brief motive presented at the start, it follows the usual
pattern of a calm beginning, leading to an impassioned middle, and then
returning to the calm of the beginning, again with some chromatic movement
and a number of augmented chords to boot. Harp-like filigree patterns
conclude yet another effective piece of salon writing.
Belgian-pianist, Eliane Reyes, proves the ideal protagonist for Godard’s
musical writing, enhanced by the faithfully-recorded Steinway Model D Grand.
She has the ability to produce unlimited subtle tonal shadings, is always
aware of linear clarity, observes points of articulation with impeccable
precision, especially where this involves the simultaneous use of staccato
and legato in one hand, and has such a well-honed technique to despatch any
of the difficulties with real aplomb. More important, she clearly relates to
the essentially salon-music style of the character pieces, while still
treating the impressive
Second Sonata with more than sufficient
academic respect, though never to the detriment of the music’s enjoyment as
such. The sleeve-notes are helpful, too, though it’s a pity that they
introduce each piece chronologically, and not in the order they are heard on
the CD.
If all this is enough to whet your appetite and encourage you to get to
know more of Godard’s piano music – in particular the
Second Sonata
– you will probably not be disappointed. If you find yourself smitten, then
this new CD is only the first of a projected set encompassing Godard’s
complete Piano Works. If not, there is still lots to commend this engrossing
new release.
Philip R Buttall
