Poking Poulenc

Preceding the performance of Poulenc’s concerto for two pianos in Savannah GA, I addressed the audience with the following short introduction:

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I wanted to share with you a few thoughts, perhaps insights into this unique work which you are about to hear - the Concerto in d minor for two pianos by Francis Poulenc.

At the end of the 19th century the musical scene in Europe was dominated by the music of Wagner and Strauss. This rich, lush, self-indulgent, self-oriented music completely overwhelmed and overshadowed anything in its way. Composers such as Stravinsky, Ravel and Debussy had to look elsewhere for their sources of inspiration. They tried to break away and go as far as possible from this intoxicating, somewhat "dangerous" music. Stravinsky started to incorporate African rhythms into his compositions. Ravel looked to Persia and being fascinated by the new cultural possibilities wrote Scheherazade. Debussy went even further, off the coast of Indonesia to the island of Java and brought back the sounds of Gamelan music - an orchestra of bells. The search for new sounds - exoticism - was central especially to the French composers.

Francis Poulenc was born into this atmosphere in 1899. Absorbing these new waves and musical thoughts, he also raised an important question - whether music / art has to always represent something serious, above, high, elitist. Can music, at times, be just plain silly. This concerto is in d minor. The two most famous d minor concerti are those by Mozart and Brahms. Both are profound masterpieces with monumental as well as tragic substance. The piece which we are about to hear, although in the same key, is a complete antithesis to its predecessors. It might be looked at as a counter-reaction to everything that d minor represents. 

In his pursuit of sounds and silliness Poulenc also asked the orchestra to get out of its comfort zone and be something else. Right at the opening pages of this magnificent work, the strings are being asked to sound like drums. In the middle section of the first movement, the wood winds and brass will produce hallowing, wining sounds resembling some creepy creatures. At the end of the first movement, one of my favorite places in the concerto, the two pianos need to create a gamelan orchestra of high-pitch bells while the principal cellist will be transformed into a glass-harmonica. Good luck with that…

  

This is music that combines buffoonery with brilliance; elements of fear with elements of flirt. It will make you love as well as laugh. It is sophisticated and surprising. It is very moving music, as well as movie music. Ladies and gentlemen, you are right! Combining all these things together might end up sounding more like one big cacophony than a piece of music. Well, we thank you for coming. We wish you good luck, and hope that you will enjoy this evening’s performance."

Poulenc plays Poulenc

Wolfgang Amadeus Bartok

On performing Bartok's concerto no. 3 with the Rhode Island as well as the Fort Wayne Philharmonic Orchestras - February 28 and March 14, 2009.

In the midst of a February month dominated by playing four different concerti (Schumann, Brahms 1, Mendelssohn 1 and Bartok 3), I suddenly discovered something which at first seemed totally absurd - that Bartok has potentially more in common with Mozart than say Schumann or Brahms. To be more specific, I realized that by thinking in Mozartean terms I would reveal more of the mystery in this piece (Bartok 3), get closer to its core, its ultra sensitive quality, its unique intimacy.

As I walked on stage I saw a magnificent sight - a huge instrument comprised of nearly eighty musicians - string players, wood winds, brass and percussionists who were playing a wide range of instruments in all shapes and sizes. The stage was completely packed.

During the first run-through of the piece I recognized much more Stravinsky and Debussy in our playing than say Bach or Mozart. I believe there is a strong misconception of Bartok as being an aggressive, heavy-handed composer. I often hear his music being played loudly and with some brutality. In music history of the twentieth century, Stravinsky's use of the simplest rhythmic patterns being repeated, and elevated above melody is called "primitivism." We also use the same term when addressing Bartok's melodic lines which are derived from folk melodies and especially peasant songs from Hungary and the neighboring countries (Romania, Bulgaria). Yet, these melodies, simple as they may sound, use quarter tones in a melodic scale, which is far more elaborate than "our" major or minor scales. Their rhythmic ingenuity juxtaposes similar recognizable rhythmic patterns in a way that creates entirely different stresses and tensions within the phrase. So different than Stravinsky. Primitive would not be the word I would use.

We begin again. This time I ask the orchestra to "Think Mozart". The scoring of the opening is so thin, so minimal - no tutti, just strings, timpani and piano. The very first notes, rather than create a Debussy-like murmur, I ask the strings for the precision and clarity that would characterize a Mozart accompaniment. The timpani should sound like as if it is playing "pizzicato." On top of that I could introduce my folkish dance. This intricate and very peculiar dance is deceptively simple. Its complexion is due to the displacements of strong beats and weak beats within the bars. It needs extreme attention to agogic, stresses and overall phrasing. A different kind of listening is asked for. Transparency is crucial. When this opening theme reaches its climax and brass instruments are added, it is still with the same sense of clarity and style that defines the classical era, rather than the full blown thick massive sound of late romanticism.

In the second theme, piano, strings, winds and percussion participate. Sounds big...? Well, "yes", however the result is quite

the opposite. In this subtle interplay between the various instruments, piano is the leading voice while the other

instruments add spices, colors and missing beats. The use of each instrument - triangle, side drum, horn, clarinet, violins is so economic, so sparse. What is even more fascinating is that to my ears, Bartok is asking the percussion instruments to sound like string pizzicato, the strings are asked to sound like wood-winds or alternatively like light percussion instruments (i.e. triangle), the wood-winds sound somewhat like a piano, and the piano... well, with music that has such purity and directness of expression, the piano needs to combine the clarity and precision of an early fortepiano with the infinite resources that the modern instrument can provide.

Let's think about that - asking a percussionist to sound like a wind player... or the latter to sound like a piano... This is a revolution to our common notions of sound. But that belongs to another entry.

Early in his life Bartok was most influenced by the composers he emerged from - Brahms, Liszt, Strauss. As he evolved, during the 1920s, Debussy and Stravinsky became a great source of inspiration. Now, late in his life (with the present piece), he is looking back to Mozart and even further... to Bach! It is in the first movement that I felt the greatest benefit in listening through Mozart "Ear-glasses." In the following movement, the slow second movement, an altogether different atmosphere is created. Its religious state of mind, its choral as well as polyphonic writing resurrect another very familiar figure, that of Johann Sebastian... Bartok.

Alon Goldstein