A few years ago I reviewed a very fine recording of Dufourt’s
beautiful cycle Les Hivers (Aeon
AECD 0209). In order not to repeat myself I had best refer
readers to that review for general information about Hugues Dufourt’s
career and achievement as well as his music.
This recent release
from Timpani, one of the most adventurous present-day labels,
presents two substantial and sizeable scores written some twenty
years apart. It allows a fair appreciation of Dufourt’s musical
progress both in its diversity and in its remarkable formal
and intellectual coherence.
The earliest work
here, Surgir, is scored for large orchestra and
might be considered a concerto for orchestra exploring the many
expressive facets offered by the modern symphonic orchestra.
The first twelve minutes or so of this imposing score are marked
by an increase in intensity from the subdued, ominous opening
onwards moving into a more animated, rhythmically intricate
section. There follows a long slow central section exploring
a wide range of instrumental combinations and thus creating
a fascinating sound-world. This section is never really static,
for – as in much else in Dufourt’s music – there is considerable
activity under a deceptively static surface. The music eventually
lives up to the title in the final ebullient, almost violent
section. This is then abruptly cut short by a nervous, exasperated
gesture.
Composed twenty
years later, Le Cyprès blanc is a monumental piece
for viola and large orchestra, although not a real concerto,
but rather a Sonata da chiesa, as the present annotator
suggests. Le Cyprès blanc (“The White Cypress”) is, so
we are told, “an image found in some Orphic texts dating from
the 7th century BC … that of a tree of light, which
shows the dying soul how to escape from the world to reach the
hereafter”. As so much else in Dufourt’s output, the poetic
idea suggested either by a text or an image never gives way
to the descriptive or the programmatic. As I mentioned in my
earlier review of Les Hivers, the music remains essentially
abstract. This does not mean that expression and communication
are completely obliterated. Indeed, for all its complexity,
the music retains a remarkable expressive strength, not least
in this gripping and often quite beautiful work. Le Cyprès
blanc is on a fairly long time-span, and the music unfolds
slowly but with considerable inner logic. The work opens with
a long orchestral introduction starting from the depths of the
orchestra and on the verge of inaudibility; but the music soon
asserts itself calmly but not without ominous undertones, paving
the way for the first entry of the soloist - at some 8 minutes
into the work. The soloist will then be continuously present
until the end, when the music will fade away into nothingness
whence it came. In the meantime, however, the music will be
packed with incident. Thus, the at first somewhat hesitant soloist
soon asserts himself with a growing agitation that is eventually
released in a forceful quick section that the composer describes
as “a tormented sea episode” unfolding in mighty crushing waves.
There follows a long slower episode consisting of several songs
of farewell, a series of serene cantabiles that the composer
describes as “an unending peroration” that is nevertheless punctuated
by some uneasy gestures. After a short-lived but imposing climax,
the music slowly dissolves away, thus bringing the piece to
its rounded conclusion. What is most remarkable in this magnificent
work is Dufourt’s ability to work in long time-spans with unflagging
logic and a refinement of orchestral palette that never obscures
the soloist. Le Cyprès blanc is one of the most
beautiful and gripping recent works that I have heard.
This is a truly
magnificent release, of the kind we have all come to expect
from Timpani and from the Orchestre Philharmonique du Luxembourg,
a now indispensable body as far as contemporary music is concerned.
Gérard Caussé plays beautifully throughout with impeccable technique
and supreme musicality, while Valade conducts vital and assured
readings of these often exacting scores. Full marks to all concerned.
Hubert Culot
