Francis Poulenc (1899-1963)
Complete Chamber Music
rec. 1995-97, Temple du Bon Secours, Paris
NAXOS 8.505258 [5 CDs: 310]
This is very much a voyage into the unknown for me. Poulenc’s orchestral and choral works that I have encountered have been enjoyable, but his chamber music, other than the sonatas for cello and piano four hands, was unknown territory. Wind chamber music generally isn’t on my radar, but I was willing to give these works a try because they were Poulenc, and I’d read at least two reviews on this site extolling their virtues (review ~ review). This boxset of reissues from the late 1990s (see reviews of individual releases: Volume 2 ~ Volume 3 ~ Volume 5) seemed the ideal opportunity.
Naxos’s definition of “Complete” is very different to that of Hyperion, for example. It released a similarly titled set a number of years ago, featuring the Nash Ensemble (review) – it comprises only two discs, and is restricted to the works that might generally be described as chamber, i.e. a small group of instrumental performers. It doesn’t include a number of works for piano duets and duos, which the Naxos set does. The big difference in the Naxos box is the inclusion of a number of vocal works. I wouldn’t normally consider such works, regardless of the number of instruments, as chamber music. However, Naxos begs to differ, and has included song cycles, incidental music, a cantata for voice and chamber orchestra and two versions of Babar for speaker and piano. Thus, we have a five-disc set. It certainly is a good way of expanding your Poulenc collection in a cost-effective way, but it may be that some of the works aren’t really what you wanted; certainly, that was the case for me.
I haven’t written a review of a boxset like this before, and have pondered at length how to go about it. In the end, I have decided to briefly mention each of the main works, because I felt that the most likely purchaser of this set is someone like me, a newbie to Poulenc or these works. A veteran Poulenc enthusiast will either have bought the individual releases when they first came out at the end of the 1990s, or have favourite versions of most/all of the works, and probably not need such a broad collection.
Before that, let me say that on the basis of my listening, and the reviews of the individual releases, that you will not be disappointed in the performances. The common thread on the five discs is the indefatigable Alexandre Tharaud, who is involved in all but six works. There is no sense of staleness in his playing; he is clearly attuned to Poulenc’s mercurial moods. The booklet notes reprise those from the original releases, and provide a perfectly satisfactory level of information. Sound quality is equally good.
So, to the music. Poulenc was famously described as “half monk, half rascal” and it is equally appropriate for much of his music. I don’t think I have heard any other composer whose music so frequently changes mood and tempo within an individual movement. One minute it is madcap and helter-skelter, the next sad and lyrical: think “the Keystone Cops meet Mozart”! If I was to be more musically serious, I would probably reference Stravinsky, but given he is isn’t one of my favourite composers, I will stick with my descriptor. Suffice to say that there is absolutely no point listening to a one-minute sample of this music to get a sense of whether it might be for you. You will need to find a free service that offers whole movements.
Disc 1 opens with the Sextet for piano and wind quintet, and you are thrown straight away into the musical world I have just described. What separates Poulenc from Stravinsky for me is the joyousness and warmth that pervades all of Poulenc’s music, terms that I would never apply to the Russian’s music (Stravinskyphiles, please don’t bother writing in to complain). You cannot help but smile at the skittering fast music, while the slow music is beautifully tuneful. The Oboe Sonata, one of his last works, is perhaps my favourite. The first and last movements are, somewhat unusually, all slow, flanking a breathless middle movement Scherzando. The Trio, for piano, oboe and bassoon, returns to the fluctuating atmosphere of the sextet, and it is a measurement of Poulenc’s skill that he manages to make the bassoon an equal partner, giving it more to do than just burble (bassoonphiles, please don’t bother writing in to complain). While the flute may not be one of my favourite instruments, Poulenc’s Sonata is a delight from first to last.
The Violin Sonata that opens Disc 2 was regarded by its composer as a failure. He professed to never being comfortable writing for strings, so don’t expect to find any string quartets here, though he did attempt to write one – “the disgrace of my life” was how he described it, and it never saw the light of day. In particular, he stated that he didn’t really like the sound of a single violin, much preferring them in orchestral numbers. The work presented here is actually his third attempt to write such a work, the first two meeting the same fate as the quartet, and yes, it is undoubtedly the weakest of the true chamber works in the set. He had more success with the Cello Sonata, though it too had an extended gestation. It has more of the abrupt mood and tempo changes in the outer movements, but the standout is the slow movement Cavatine which is quite glorious. The Clarinet Sonata is another gem, though the high-spirited sections seem slightly at odds with the dedication to the memory of his recent deceased friend, Arthur Honegger.
The sonatas for two pianists on Disc 3 – one for four hands, the others for two pianos – offer more of the extraordinary dichotomy in styles; by now, you know what to expect. However, the wind and brass-only sonatas – two clarinets, clarinet and bassoon, and most oddly, horn, trumpet and trombone – didn’t greatly appeal to me. I missed the contrasting sound of the piano.
It is in Discs 4 and 5 where the definition of chamber music becomes rather stretched, and my enjoyment dropped away dramatically. Let me start with the one that I enjoyed most: his first publicly performed work Rapsodie nègre. I’m not sure whether it would be politically correct to perform this anymore, because of the title, and also because the text used in the middle movement – called Honoloulou for no obvious reason – is a fabrication, supposedly African in origin, and written by “Makoko Kangourou”. However, the other four, purely instrumental movements are very enjoyable.
I will have to let you decide what you think of the cantata (Le Bal masqué) and three song cycles (Le Bestaire, Quatre poèmes de Max Jacob and Cocardes) on Disc 4. I have not really ever “got” art song, and if I can’t properly appreciate Winterreise, what hope do I have with these?
On Disc 5, we have the two versions of Babar, one in French, the other in English, with a twelve-year-old boy and thirteen-year-old girl, respectively, as the narrators. When I looked at the Presto listing for Babar, the overwhelming majority of narrators were adults, which seems to make sense, as this seems more like a story to be read to children. Whether you like these versions will be purely down to what your opinion is of the age of the narrator. I don’t think I’m the intended audience. The other works are suites of incidental music (L’Invitation au château and Léocadia), which have numerous short sections of music that stop just when they are getting interesting. Obviously apposite for their purpose of supporting the action on stage, but they don’t make for entirely satisfying listening by themselves.
So, as one might expect with such a collection, it is a mixed bag, and your response will totally depend on your liking for (or otherwise) the different types of music. Knowing what I do now, the whole boxset isn’t quite as good value, since almost half of it doesn’t really appeal. However, that is just me, and if you do like 20th century French songs, then there is probably going to be a lot more that appeals.
David Barker
Contents
Sextet for piano and wind quintet, Op. 100
Oboe Sonata, Op. 185
Trio for piano, oboe and bassoon
Flute Sonata, Op. 164
Villanelle for piccolo (pipe) and piano
Violin Sonata, FP 119
Bagatelle in D minor
Clarinet Sonata, Op. 184
Cello Sonata, Op. 143
Capriccio (d'après Le Bal masqué) for two pianos
Sonata for Two Pianos
Elégie for two pianos, FP175
L'Embarquement pour Cythère, for 2 pianos
Sonata for Piano Four Hands (à mademoiselle Simone Tilliard)
Sonata for Two Clarinets, Op. 7
Sonata for Clarinet and Bassoon, Op. 32
Sonata for Horn, Trumpet & Trombone, Op. 33
Le Bal masqué
Le Bestiaire ou Cortege d'Orphee
Quatre Poems de Max Jacob
Rapsodie négre
Cocardes
Elégie for horn and piano, Op. 168
Sarabande for solo guitar, Op. 179
L'histoire de Babar, le petit éléphant
L'Invitation au Chateau
Leocadia
Performers
Alexandre Tharaud, François Chaplin (piano)
Philippe Bernold (flute, recorder)
Olivier Doise (oboe)
Ronald Van Spaendonck, André Moisan (clarinet)
Laurent Lefèrve (bassoon)
Hérve Joulan (horn)
Graf Mourja (violin)
Françoise Groben (cello)
Guy Touvron (trumpet)
Jacques Mauger (trombone)
Franck Leguérinel (baritone)
Pierre-Michel Durand (conductor)
Pierre Laniau (guitar)
Jean Delescluse (tenor)
François Mouzaya, Natasha Emerson (narrator)
Danielle Darrieux (voice)
