Florent Schmitt, photographed at his home in St-Cloud in 1937. (Photo: Lipnitzki-Roger Viollet)

For students of history, the International Exposition of Art and Technology in Modern Life — colloquially known as the Paris Exposition of 1937 — is one of those events that’s been the subject of much sociological dissection, seeing as how it was the last great transnational gathering held on the European continent prior to the onset of World War II. 

As such, the Paris Expo served as a backdrop for the dueling political ideologies of the time — with fascist and communist nations in particular spotlighting themselves via Tarzanesque displays of strength as they vied for the attentions — and validation — of fairgoers.

The Festivals of Lights at the 1937 Paris Exposition.

Of course, the Paris Exposition was about more than technology, commerce and politics; there were generous lashings of cultural offerings that were part of the Expo experience as well. 

From a musical standpoint in particular, the Paris Exposition is best remembered for the Fêtes de la lumières (Festivals of Lights), which consisted of evening choreographed spectacles of water, lights and music held on the banks of the Seine River. Those multimedia events are described in detail in this article on the Florent Schmitt Website + Blog — and the story makes for fascinating reading. 

French pianist Marguerite Long (1874-1966). (1920 photo)

Less known is a more modest musical undertaking that involved the Parisian publisher Raymond Deiss (whose catalogue would be acquired by Salabert in 1946 following the publisher’s death as a result of his Resistance activities during World War II).

This particular Deiss project consisted of a set of eight piano pieces written to commemorate the Paris Exposition as well as to honor the famed French pianist and pedagogue Marguerite Long.  Eight piano pieces were commissioned and gathered together as a collection of “illustrations musicales” under the overarching title à l’Exposition.

Raymond Deiss (1893-1943). During World War II the music publisher joined the Resistance, printing some 16 issues of the clandestine newspaper Pantagruel before being arrested and charged with sedition, leading to his execution in Cologne.

The compositions created for the Paris Exposition’s Festivals of Lights were large-scale orchestral works (some with chorus) — the longest of them running well over 30 minutes in duration.  By contrast, the piano pieces penned for the Deiss project — the eight composers personally selected by Mme. Long herself — are relative trifles; only one of the pieces lasts more than four minutes.  The collection includes:

• Georges Auric:  La Seine, un matin …  (The Seine, One Morning …)
• Marcel Delannoy:  Diner sur l’eau  (Dinner on the Water)
• Jacques Ibert:  L’Espiègle du Village de Lilliput  (The Rapscallion of the Lilliputian Village)
• Darius Milhaud:  Le Tour de l’Exposition  (Touring the Fair)
• Francis Poulenc:  Bourrée au Pavillon d’Auvergne  (Bourrée at the Auvergne Pavilion)
• Henri Sauguet:  Nuit coloniale sur les bords de la Seine  (French Colonies Night on the Banks of the Seine)
• Florent Schmitt:  La Retardée  (The Late One)
• Germaine Tailleferre:  Au Pavillon d’Alsace  (At the Alsace Pavilion)

  The table of contents page from the book of Paris Exposition piano pieces, published by Raymond Deiss (1937).

Henri Sauguet (1901-1989)

Writing about the set of pieces some 50 years after their creation, the composer Henri Sauguet remembered how the project had come about and how it was first presented to the public:

“The choice of composers was made by Mme. Marguerite Long, and it was her students — many of whom are now famous pianists — who gave the first performance of the pieces, one after the other, at a concert given at the time of the Exposition.”

No doubt in light of her central role in the project, the piano compositions in the set were dedicated to Marguerite Long — all of them except for Florent Schmitt’s, that is.  Schmitt’s piece was dedicated to the American-French pianist and pedagogue Aline van Barentzen instead.

A poster promoting a concert featuring the American-French pianist Aline van Barentzen performing with the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra.

One might wonder how this came about, and there are several clues as to the answer.  As it turns out, Schmitt’s original submission to the publisher was a far more substantial work than the pieces contributed by the seven other composers.  In fact, Schmitt’s entry was a five movement work of nearly 20 minutes in duration that ended up being published in 1939 as his Suite sans esprit de suite, Op. 89 in both piano and orchestral versions. 

Asked to supply an alternative composition that would be more in keeping with the scope of the other works in the collection, Schmitt delivered the short piece La Retardée, Op. 90, which already bore a dedication to Mme. van Barentzen.  The title of the piece — “The Late One” — may well refer to the last-minute changeout of music, rather than to any specific Paris Expo reference. An alternative explanation of the title has been posited by the American music critic Steven Kruger, who writes:  

“The title of the piece displays the insouciance of a good-looking woman who knows she is worth waiting for …”

The pianist Aline van Barentzen (1900-1988), pictured in later life.

In retrospect, we can be happy that the publisher insisted on an alternative submission from Schmitt, because when weighing the musical merits of the eight compositions that make up the collection, Schmitt’s piece is noteworthy in its effectiveness and appeal.

The English music editor and critic Lionel Salter, for one, declared Schmitt’s La Retardée to be a “brilliant” composition and “perhaps the best piece” in the set. 

As for the other works in the collection, Salter characterized them as follows:

Lionel Salter (1914-2000)

“Milhaud offers a lolloping jaunt in his characteristically personal harmonic idiom.  Tailleferre has a tongue-in-cheek waltz, with some alien digressions.  Sauguet rambles past the Expo’s [French] colonial [possessions’] pavilions, picking up whiffs of their exoticism, while Poulenc contents himself with an Auvergnesque folk-dance …

Listening to all these miniatures one after the other is a bit like trying to dine off cocktail snacks, but taken individually there is much to enjoy …”

The à l’Exposition collection is not widely known among either pianists or the listening public, and to date the complete set has received just one commercial recording.  It is an interesting one in that it includes not only the set of eight piano pieces published by Deiss, but also a second set of piano works penned by nine other composers — a collection that was gathered together by a different Parisian publisher (Eschig) and introduced to the public the following year.

Only commercial recording so far, featuring pianist Bennett Lerner. (Etcetera label, 1988)

Alexandre Tcherepnin (1899-1977)

The second project was spearheaded by the composer Alexandre Tcherepnin and once again involved Marguerite Long, who arranged for one of her star pupils — a then very-young Nicole Henriot-Schweitzer — to premiere the set in a recital at the Salle Gaveau in Paris in 1938. 

At the time Mlle. Henriot was just 14 years old, but she had already won the top prize for piano performance at the Paris Conservatoire — the first of numerous awards she would garner as her budding career as a concert pianist began to blossom.

From left to right, Vice-Admiral Jean-Jacques Schweitzer and his wife, pianist Nicole Henriot-Schweitzer, with conductors Charles Munch and Fritz Munch at the Lido cabaret in Paris. Henriot-Schweitzer (1925-2001) premiered the second (Tcherepnin-led) set of Paris Exposition piano pieces in 1938 at the age of 13. The famed Maestro Charles Munch was her uncle by marriage. (1957 photo)

The 1938 Eschig collection differs from the Deiss set in that the nine contributors hailed from countries other than France — although all of the composers were then working in Paris:

• Ernesto Halffter (Spain)
• Tibor Harsányi (Hungary)
• Arthur Honegger (Switzerland)
• Bohuslav Martinu (Czechoslovakia)
• Marcel Mihalovici (Romania)
• Federico Mompou (Spain)
• Vittorio Rieti (Italy)
• Alexandre Tansman (Russia)
• Alexandre Tcherepnin (Russia)

Moreover, the inspiration for the compositions in this new collection was concentrated more specifically on the Expo’s funfair and circus installations, with the pieces sporting titles such as At the Roller-Coaster, The Whirly-Gig, The Train Ride, The Lion Lady, The Romanian Dancer and The Giant.

Bennett Lerner (Photo: Christian Steiner)

The recording of both collections was released in 1988 by the Dutch/Belgian label Etcetera and featured the American pianist Bennett Lerner, who served up artistically sensitive performances that presented the music in the best possible light. 

While CD copies of the Etcetera recording aren’t easy to find these days, the individual pieces have been uploaded to YouTube as separate videos and can be accessed there. 

The track listing for the 1988 Etcetera recording featuring pianist Bennett Lerner.

Owning the Etcetera recording and knowing the pieces that make up both sets, I heartily agree with Lionel Salter’s opinion that Florent Schmitt’s contribution is among the most brilliantly effective of the 17 works.  To judge for yourself, you can listen to La Retardée here on YouTube.

The first page to the sheet music for Florent Schmitt’s La Retardée, Op. 90.

It has now been 35 years since the first and only commercial recording of this music was made.  Surely, younger performers of today can find much to discover in these two collections — piano miniatures that are so reflective of the musical styles that were in fashion in mid-1930s Europe …

The 2020 NAXOS recording, completed just days before the COVID pandemic shuttered classical music performances across the globe, includes two colorful ballet scores along with two world premieres.

Since its November 2020 release during Florent Schmitt’s 150th birthday anniversary year, the NAXOS recording of four orchestral works by the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra under its music director, JoAnn Falletta, has garnered critical acclaim the world over. 

Moreover, the recording has been a commercial success, achieving the #2 sales position for NAXOS recordings in the months following its release.

NAXOS best-sellers, January 2021.

The latest accolade for the new Schmitt recording is winning the coveted Diapason d’Or for orchestral recordings in the March 2021 issue of Diapason magazine. 

Considering the large number of orchestral releases that hit the streets each month, it is indeed a noteworthy honor — and all the more so considering that it represents a French magazine recognizing a recording of French music made by an American conductor and an American orchestra.  

No home-country advantage here!

In Diapason magazine’s review of the Florent Schmitt recording, writer and music critic François Laurent singled out Schmitt’s ballets La Tragédie de Salomé and Oriane et le Prince d’Amour, noting how effectively those colorful scores were brought to vibrant life by Maestra Falletta and the Buffalo musicians. 

Mezzo-soprano Susan Platts was also praised for her artistic approach to the solo passages in La Tragédie de Salomé and, most especially, the rapturous orchestral song Musique sur l’eau, set to poetry of Albert Samain.

Diapason magazine’s review of the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra’s NAXOS recording of four Florent Schmitt masterpieces, conducted by JoAnn Falletta (March 2021 issue).

For those who don’t read French, here is an English translation of François Laurent’s review:

Florent Schmitt remains, in the eyes of JoAnn Falletta, “the greatest French composer you’ve never heard of.” Hopefully this magnificent anthology will change the situation a bit. Continually deserting the Villa Medici for trips to Sweden or Morocco, Poland or Turkey, the ebullient 1900 Prix de Rome winner brought back a profusion of rhythms and colors, enshrined in his colossal scores.

La Tragédie de Salomé (1907), a ballet dedicated to his friend Stravinsky, would find its true dimensions three years later — those of a symphonic poem. Even as Schmitt cuts out three episodes to halve the performance time he also adds considerably to the orchestration. Whether it is for the amorous reveries entrusted to the English horn, the scintillations of the sea (harp and glockenspiel), or the thrills of the Danse des perles, the Buffalo forces deploy a rich palette, without ever overwhelming the erudite architecture or the juxtapositions of colors.  

Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra

This clarity of texture lends a fascinating depth to Les Enchantments sur la mer (with its gentle murmuring of harps, triangle, strings and winds that are apostrophic), and to the solitary song of the mezzo, rising at first in the distance (and with pianissimo strings), then coming closer joined by a female choir. The frenzy and intense expression are abundantly here too, whipped up by the lively gestures of the American conductor.

The 1918 Légende was intended (as was Debussy’s Rapsodie) for the saxophone of Elise Hall.  Despite Nikki Chooi’s incisive playing, the alternate version for violin of this tormented piece loses something of the contrast.

Susan Platts

Let us finish with two rarities. With a tight vibrato and meticulous French, Susan Platts captivates in Musique sur l’eau (1898), a melody whose voluptuous chromaticism — the languor sliding between the sky and the waves — perfectly captures the symbolism of Samain’s poem. “Nothing is sweet like agony / From lip to lip / In undefined music.” 

Another enchantment is that of Oriane et le Prince d’Amour (1934-37), a ballet from which Falletta presents the concert suite all of apiece: knightly horns and fanfares, dissonant confessions juxtaposed against true love, exotic and menacing processions, and great virtuoso flights of winds leading to an exuberant conclusion. When will we have the complete ballet?

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Four months following its release, the Falletta/BPO recording of Florent Schmitt’s music continues to receive critical accolades from all quarters. The recording is readily available from all online classical music outlets — Amazon, Presto Music, ArkivMusic, HBDirect, etc. — in physical or download form.  In case you have yet to hear its stunning musical artistry, this recording is well-worth seeking out.

Low brass musicians of the Jena Philharmonic Orchestra (l. to r. Bruno Osinski, Douglas Murdoch, Carl-Philipp Kaptain, Martin Zuckschwerdt). (Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time he composed his Quartet for Trombones and Tuba.

Late last year, several clips quietly appeared on Facebook — each of them featuring a movement from Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Trombones and Tuba, Opus 109, a fascinating piece that the composer created in 1946.

the only commercial recording so far of Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Trombones and Tuba (Hungaroton, 2000).

This quartet is a composition that, despite its creativity and inventiveness, remains one of the least-known of Schmitt’s scores.  Indeed, it is hardly ever performed and has been commercially recorded only once — more than 20 years ago on the Hungaroton label.  That recording is long out-of-print and nearly impossible to find for even the most dauntless sleuth.  (Speaking personally, it took me five years of searching before finally locating a second-hand copy of the CD from an Australian vendor that, combined with shipping, set me back a cool US$50.)

[To read more about the Quartet for Trombones and Tuba and its interesting history, this article contains details.]

I came across the Facebook audio/video clips of the Quartet purely by chance.  Upon listening to them, I realized immediately that these were performances that truly do justice to Schmitt’s score, giving full measure to Schmitt’s vision and allowing the music to shine brightly.

As it turns out, the four musicians featured on the Facebook clips are members of the low brass section of the Jenaer Philharmonie (Jena Philharmonic Orchestra) in Germany, and they’ve been playing together as a section for the past four years.  The musicians include:

• Martin Zuckschwerdt, solo trombone, member since 2001
• Carl-Philipp Kaptain, assistant solo trombone, member since 2017
• Douglas Murdoch, solo bass trombone, member since 2016
• Bruno Osinski, solo tuba, member since 2014

The low brass players of the Jenaer Philharmonie. (Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

This current constellation of Jena low brass players came together in 2017, at which time the four musicians began to rehearse together on upcoming orchestral repertoire along with working on general brass ensemble skills.  As Douglas Murdoch, one of the musicians, quips, “Aware that we might be colleagues for the next 30 years, we wanted to iron out any kinks at the beginning!”

As the musicians played and rehearsed together, they also searched out music for trombone quartet (old and new, original and arranged), uncovering a rich and varied seam of repertoire — from Beethoven and Bruckner to Derek Bourgeois, Saskia Apon, Daniel Schnyder and others.  It was music that worked well for their instruments and for their playing styles.

The players were soon being asked to perform at a range of municipal events, culminating in presenting their first full chamber concert in 2019 as part of the Jena Philharmonic’s concert series.

Interested to learn about the journey of discovery that led the Jena low brass musicians to Florent Schmitt’s Quartet, I initiated contact with Douglas Murdoch, the trombonist who had posted the Facebook clips.  Mr. Murdoch graciously agreed to be interviewed, and he facilitated the participation of his three colleagues as well.  Highlights of our interesting discussion are presented below.  (Note:  Some of the remarks have been translated from German into English.)

PLN:  How did you become familiar with the music of Florent Schmitt?

The Jacques Mercier/Lorraine National Orchestra recording (Timpani, 2007).

Bruno Osinski:  I was the one who brought Florent Schmitt’s Quartet to the attention of my colleagues.  My first exposure to Schmitt’s music was in 2007 when I participated in making a recording of his Antoine et Cléopâtre suites and Mirages with the Orchestre National de Lorraine under the direction of Jacques Mercier.  This music made a very good impression on me, but I didn’t follow up on it immediately because my interest at the time was more with the Austro-German repertoire.

Bruno Osinski (Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

Then in 2015, I played a large choral work by Schmitt [Psaume XLVII] in Fulda with the Jenaer Philharmonie.  This inspired me to start listening to his music all over again — and my enthusiasm kept growing.  I found a long list of his compositions and stumbled upon his Trombones and Tuba Quartet quite by accident.  I was very surprised that Schmitt had composed a work for such an ensemble — and that it was unknown.

Today, I am totally in love with this piece!

PLN:  How did Florent Schmitt’s Quartet end up becoming part of your group’s repertoire?

Douglas Murdoch:  Trombone quartets come with a number of issues facing a lower brass section made up of both trombone and tuba players.  Often, the best original scores are written with a bass trombone timbre in mind — in which case substituting a tuba to play the part won’t work adequately.  Or, the upper three tenor trombone parts are written with equal importance, spreading the high solos out across the players while leaving the bass player flying too close to the sun!

Interestingly, considering that four trombone/tuba players have been used in the orchestra as a self-contained grouping since the mid-nineteenth century — think of composers ranging from Berlioz and Wagner to Shostakovich and Britten – there is actually surprisingly little original music that’s been created for this kind of ensemble.

So, with relatively little repertoire to choose from, our group played through a variety of original compositions, but we were largely disappointed with how they sounded. 

I must say, our first attempt at the Florent Schmitt Quartet was likewise not very successful.  The modern trombone and tuba are designed to fill a large concert hall with deep, sonorous sounds, but intricate music can be easily overwhelmed by their power.  With our modern, large instruments, Schmitt’s Quartet music seemed too heavy and thick, and we gave up on it all too quickly.

PLN:  It all sounds rather discouraging …

Simon Gaudenz

Douglas Murdoch:  One might think so.  But at this point in the story, Simon Gaudenz, our music director at the orchestra, enters the picture.  In recent seasons, he has asked us to play on small-bore instruments in the classical and romantic repertoire in order to achieve a more transparent sound.  Although we enjoyed this challenge, we hadn’t always found it easy — and had talked about working more diligently to fully exploit the possibilities of this unfamiliar (at least to us) sound palette.

Then when the COVID crisis hit in March of last year, we decided to take the newly available time to experiment with our small-bore instruments.  We attempted the Florent Schmitt composition again, and instantly recognized the potential of the piece.  It is clearly a masterpiece of writing for the ensemble — although it requires a lot of work to master!

PLN:  Regarding Schmitt’s piece, what are your general impressions of the music?  In what ways is it similar to other compositions for lower brass instruments, and in what ways different?

Carl-Philipp Kaptain:  My overall impression of Florent Schmitt’s Quartet is that it presents a dense sound-world of the highest order.  By contrast, other works for our combination of instruments are noticeably simpler, with clear discernible differences between the melody and the accompaniment.

Another notable characteristic of Schmitt’s compositional technique is the way he divides the upper melody between the first and second trombones — in the process creating a kind of “stereo effect” within the shortest of phrases.

The score to Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Trombones and Tuba, published by Billaudot.

Even though it resides very much within the free-tonal harmonic style of contemporary French music encountered at the time [1946], the piece also signals the coming of future compositions such as Eugène Bozza’s Trois pièces for trombone quartet which appeared in 1964. 

Unique to Schmitt’s piece is the seriousness in which the composer approached writing for this combination of instruments.  Schmitt’s structural complexity, his strong expressive contrasts, and the subtle-yet-highly effective harmonies stand in stark contrast to the typically light and less demanding brass ensemble works that other composers were writing in the mid-twentieth century.

PLN:  Can we talk a bit more about the issue of fully exploiting the coloristic possibilities of the trombone and tuba?

Carl-Philipp Kaptain:  This is an intriguing topic.  As Douglas states, three trombones and tuba are a characteristic idiom from the traditional symphonic literature of the nineteenth and early twentieth century — where we typically find that the instruments are often employed as an addition to the tutti orchestral color.  Or they’re used for choral or organ-like passages when they’re given a noticeable role. 

The moments in which they’re allowed to emerge from the musical background tend to be in the grandest musical climaxes.  As such, they rarely play the most integral roles in compositions.

PLN:  With that kind of backdrop, it must have posed an interesting challenge for composers who sought to write pieces featuring these instruments solely.

Carl-Philipp Kaptain (l) and Douglas Murdoch (r). Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

Carl-Philipp Kaptain:  Precisely.  To contemplate a work spotlighting such “periphery” instruments, a composer must abandon the conventional idiom — and in this instance Schmitt does just that.  He pushed the technical requirements and compositional norms beyond even the most demanding solo literature of 1946.  The duration of the Quartet — almost 15 minutes of playing at the extremes of the first trombone’s upper register with little opportunity for rest or recovery — makes any live performance a big challenge.

PLN:  What about rhythmic complexity?

Carl-Philipp Kaptain:  That’s a challenge as well.  The rhythmic complexities and offset interjections in the second and fourth movements are – even today – quite atypical of the brass literature.  Even with intensive rehearsing, some passages can be realized only in “style” rather than in “accuracy.”

A close look at the score reveals that Schmitt used the traditional roles of the lower brass sparingly — notably in the passages of grand proclamation and, in contrast, choral figurations in the first movement unison passages and in the slow third movement.  The rest of the composition appears, from its musical and technical demands, to hew more closely to the expectations of a string quartet!

Douglas Murdoch:  The Schmitt is a great piece — but so demanding in so many ways. It is written very much for French players, with a very high tessitura and requiring a smaller sound. This makes intonation and mixing the sounds of the instruments much harder to achieve. The piece also has rhythmic passages that required hours of work for minimal gain, but we definitely learned something through the process and thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the music.

PLN:  What are your impressions of the individual movements of the Quartet — things that strike you as particularly interesting or novel for the listener as well as the players.  Let’s start with the first movement, described in the title as “eager and heavy” …

Martin Zuckschwerdt (Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

Martin Zuckschwerdt:  For me, a special aspect of the first movement is how Florent Schmitt toys with the audience’s expectations for a composition written for low brass instruments. 

And what is expected does happen at first — until it doesn’t.  As you listen, it soon becomes clear that the composer has no intention of treading the same well-worn path of other composers in their works.

Thus, the movement begins with a short fanfare-like melody, set in wide octaves and performed with great emphasis — exactly as one would expect a brass chamber music piece to sound.  But then Schmitt begins to focus more and more on the lyrical and harmonic development of the music.  Repetition of the beginning motif seems aimed at preventing the movement from developing in this direction — but it cannot prevail.  And so the movement ends, following a longer, increasingly harmonically more complex lyrical part with soft, fading chords. 

It’s also a clear message that the remaining movements will be equally unpredictable!

PLN:  So, what tricks does the composer have up his sleeve in the second movement?

Martin Zuckschwerdt:  The second movement is titled “Vif,” and it exhibits a much different character.  True to form, Florent Schmitt doesn’t dwell on conventional expectations for long.  Rhythmically complex, lively, exciting and virtuosic, sometimes the music leaves the listener in the dark as to what its main focus is or where it’s heading!

Significantly, the second movement is notated in 6/8 time even though the interaction would be much easier for players if the composer had chosen to notate the music in 3/4 time.  But as we discovered during our rehearsals, had the composer done this, it would have resulted in a completely different effect.  The entire character of the movement — its liveliness and lightness — would have been lost.

PLN:  In other words, the score’s complexity is intentional in achieving a purposeful musical result — not because it was clumsily written?

Martin Zuckschwerdt:  Exactly.

PLN:  The third movement, marked “Lent,” is of a completely different character.  What kind of mood does it convey?

The first page of the score to Florent Schmitt’s 1951 string arrangement of the third movement of his Quartet for Trombones and Tuba, published by Durand & Cie. as Andante Religioso.

Douglas Murdoch:  This is the movement that seems to adhere most closely to what we’d normally expect to hear in a trombone quartet — namely, richly harmonic music with sonorous baritone melodies.  In fact, this was Schmitt’s favorite movement of the piece — so much so that he later transcribed the work for string quartet [and also prepared a version for four cellos]. 

As brass players, we’re used to playing arrangements and transcriptions derived from more familiar instrumental combinations.  That an original work for a trombone/tuba quartet would make the transition in the other direction speaks directly to the high quality of the music, I feel.

PLN:  And the final movement, marked “Animé” — any special comments that you’d like to make about this one?

Carl-Philipp Kaptain:  I mentioned earlier that Schmitt’s Quartet places us in a dense sound-world.   This is particularly the case in the final movement, which reaches a level of polyphony that is, for brass compositions, quite rare. 

I’m speaking here of the close imitation between the instruments, as well as polyrhythms within a single bar (sixteenth-notes against triplet-eighths against eighth-notes) that sometimes cover each other in their complexity.

PLN:  It’s wonderful that we have recorded documentation of your fine vision of Schmitt’s Quartet.  How did that recording come together?  

Douglas Murdoch:  Our original plan had been to perform the Quartet in front of an audience this past December as part of a concert by our orchestra in Jena.  Unfortunately, that presentation was cancelled due to the continuing COVID pandemic, but luckily, we were still able to record the piece live for broadcast on MDR Radio [Mitteldeutscher Rundfunk] in Germany.

Low brass musicians of the Jena Philharmonic recording Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Trombones and Tuba (December 2020). Pictured left to right: Martin Zuckschwerdt (King 28 Liberty trombone); Carl-Philipp Kaptain (Conn 6H trombone); Douglas Murdoch (Conn 88H trombone); Bruno Osinski (Musica Wiener Tuba). The recording can be heard here. (Photo: ©Christoph Stämmler)

An upload of us playing the Quartet can be seen on YouTube, combining into one upload the four Facebook clips that were made during our rehearsals working towards the December concert. 

To prepare, we asked Martin Dressler, a student at the Tonmeister-institut Detmold, to be our recording engineer.  The project was intended more to focus our preparations for the planned December concert than to produce a polished “official” audio documentation. 

But the end-product greatly surpassed our expectations! This was in no small part thanks to Martin, who did a top-notch job in his first-ever recording of a brass ensemble.  We’re particularly pleased with the clarity and depth of the recorded sound.  Each instrument can be placed precisely, while retaining the warm, natural sound acoustic of the Jena Volkshaus.

PLN:  Looking ahead, what plans do you have for performing Florent Schmitt’s Quartet? 

After such intensive work on the Quartet during 2020, we think we’ll be taking a break from the piece for the moment — but we’re absolutely sure we’ll return to it in the future!

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We are indebted to the accomplished low brass musicians of the Jena Philharmonic for devoting such passion and energy to prepare one of Florent Schmitt’s most musically rewarding scores and giving it the artistic attention it deserves.  Having listened to their YouTube upload, available here, it’s my personal view that they have captured the spirit of the music completely convincingly, making it the new “go-to” performance of this piece.

Musicians of the Jena Philharmonic Orchestra (Jenaer Philharmonie).

As an aside, the Jena Philharmonic has future plans to perform more Florent Schmitt — the ballet La Tragédie de Salomé — during the orchestra’s 2022-23 season, led by its music director, Simon Gaudenz.  More information about that concert will be shared as details become available.

The pioneering Cubist artist and the forward-looking composer — kindred spirits in their disdain for the “conventional” in the arts — are forever linked by an iconic painting.

Albert Gleizes’ 1915 portrait of Florent Schmitt was featured on a French postage stamp issued nearly a century later (2012).

In 2012, the French postal service issued a stamp portraying a 1915 painting by the French Cubist artist, theoretician and philosopher Albert Gleizes titled Le Chant de guerre, portrait de Florent Schmitt.  How is it that Schmitt came to be the subject of such a painting, and how did it come about?

It’s an intriguing question. Indeed, considering that the Cubism movement sought to disassociate art from bourgeois trappings, it may seem counterintuitive that Florent Schmitt would be associated with it, because Schmitt is perceived by some observers to embody conservative rather than radical tendencies.

Then again, it does well to recall the words of composer Alain Margoni, a protégé of Florent Schmitt during the 1950s, who has famously stated, “The French are not revolutionaries; they are frustrated conservatives.”

Albert Léon Gleizes (1881-1953) (ca. 1920 photo)

And if we look closely at the life of both Florent Schmitt and Albert Gleizes, we can discern those very qualities quite clearly, seeing as how both of them moved in “radical” as well as “conservative” circles during the trajectory of their lives.

Born in Paris in 1881, Albert Léon Gleizes came from an artistic family.  He was the son of a fabric designer as well as the nephew of Léon Comerre, a well-known portrait painter who had been a Prix de Rome winner in 1875.

Exhibiting rebellious tendencies as a youth, Gleizes preferred wandering the cemeteries of Paris over attending school — even as he became a self-taught artist.

Artistic roots: The renowned portrait painter Léon-François Comerre (1850-1916) was Albert Gleizes’ uncle.

After serving a stint in the French infantry for several years in the late 1800s, Gleizes returned to Paris — more non-conformist in his attitudes than ever.  He turned his full attentions to painting, while also taking some formal instruction in art.

He was just 21 years old when his echt-Impressionist work La Seine à Asnières was exhibited at the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts in 1902.

An early Albert Gleizes painting — Impressionist style.

Gleizes was also politically active in his early years, being one of the founders of the Association Ernest Renan, named after the French orientalist and Semitic scholar — a union of students vehemently opposed to military propaganda.  Gleizes was placed in charge of the association’s Section littéraire et artistique, in which he organized various theatre productions and poetry readings.

Members of the short-lived L’Abbaye de Créteil. Albert Gleizes is pictured third from right in the front row. Other members included Charles Vildrac, René Arcos, Alexandre Mercereau, Henri-Martin Barzun, Georges Duhamel, Berthold Mahn and Jacques Otémar, among others. Charles Vildrac, standing at far left, was one of the “radical” poets whose words Florent Schmitt set to music in his compositions — as the composer did also with the poetry of other non-conformist radicals/pacifists such as Robert Ganzo, Charles Sanglier and Laurent Tailhade.

Albert Gleizes: Le Chemin paysage à Meudon. (oil on canvas,1911)

Gleizes and other like-minded artists also formed a kind of fraternal association, renting a large house they dubbed the Abbaye de Créteil.  This short-lived community of artists aimed to develop their creations completely free of commercial concerns.  While this venture failed after just one year, Gleizes soon moved to another house near Montmartre which he shared with four fellow-artists including Amedeo Modigliani.

During this time, Gleizes’ artistic style had migrated away from Impressionism — now taking greater interest in bolder colors (a transitory flirtation with Fauvism), but more importantly being characterized by dynamic intersections of geometric planes.

Albert Gleizes’s L’Homme au hamoc (Man in a Hammock) is in the collection of the Albright-Knox Gallery in Buffalo, NY, USA. (oil on canvas, 1913)

A successful exhibition of Gleizes paintings in Moscow in 1908 raised the artist’s profile back home in Paris, resulting in his artwork being exhibited at the Salon des Indépendants in 1910 — and then in 1911 at the first art exhibition in Paris devoted to Cubism, at which Gleizes’ paintings were featured alongside those of fellow painters Jean Metzinger, Robert Delaunay and others.

The American art historian Daniel Robbins has characterized Gleizes’ development as an artist during this time as follows:

“We see the artist’s volumetric approach to Cubism and his successful union of a broad field of vision with a flat picture frame … The effort to grasp the intricate rhythms of a panorama resulted in a comprehensive geometry of intersecting and overlapping forms which created a new and more dynamic quality of movement.”

Jean Dominique Antony Metzinger (1883-1956). (1913 photo)

In 1912, Jean Metzinger and  Albert Gleizes co-authored the first-ever book published about Cubism in art, which introduced the theoretical and aesthetic bases behind the movement.

In their book, the two authors posited that artists should refrain from viewing an object from a specific point of view, but instead “rebuild” it based on a selection of viewpoints — as if viewed simultaneously from numerous angles, and in four dimensions.

Juliette Roche (self-portrait, 1920).

The Metzinger/Gleizes volume, titled Du cubisme, made quite a stir and raised more than a few eyebrows. The subject of intense interest, the book was translated into English and Russian almost immediately — even as the Cubists were accused by traditionalists of creating an art form that was “barbaric.”

The year 1913 was an important one for Gleizes, as he and several other Cubist painters introduced their artwork to American audiences at prominent exhibitions in New York City, Boston and Chicago.

Jean-Maurice Eugène Clément Cocteau (1889-1963)

That same year, through a mutual artist friend Gleizes met Juliette Roche (1884-1980), the daughter of Jules Roche, a high-ranking French politician who was also a leading light in the Parisian avant-garde art world.

[As an interesting aside, Jules Roche was also the godfather of the famed poet and stage designer Jean Cocteau.]

An accomplished artist in her own right, Juliette Roche studied painting at the Académie Ranson in Paris.

Florent Schmitt as a French soldier during World War I. He and several other artists and musicians were assigned to the same regiment in Toul. In a letter to Igor Stravinsky, Schmitt later referred to his time at the front as “two less-than-amusing years of militarism.”

With the outbreak of World War I, Gleizes re-enlisted in the French army, whereupon he was placed in charge of organizing entertainment for the troops.  In one of those projects he was engaged by Cocteau to design the sets and costumes for a production of Shakespeare’s play A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

It was also during this time that Gleizes came into contact with Florent Schmitt — although it’s quite likely that their paths had already crossed in Paris prior to the war, seeing as how the worlds of music and art in the city were so inextricably intertwined.

Besides, Schmitt was a founding member and active participant in Les Apaches, the Société musicale indépendante and other “non-conformist” groups that propagated “new” music, literature and art in opposition to the conservative and often “chilly” Parisian public.

The gravesite of poet and writer Léon Tonnelier (1874-1938) at the Cimetière du Sud in Nancy, France. (Photo: G. Garitan)

At the outset of the war, Schmitt composed his Chant de guerre, Op. 63, scored for tenor solo, men’s chorus and orchestra with words based on the poetry of Léon Tonnelier.

The piece was premiered at the Théâtre de Toul in February 1915.  (Enlisted in the armed forces at the time, Schmitt was assigned to the Toul region of the country as was Gleizes.)

No doubt, this is how Gleizes and Schmitt came into contact even as both were working on their new artistic creations.

A vintage copy of the choral part for Florent Schmitt’s original version of Chant de guerre. Composed for tenor solo, male chorus and large orchestra, the score contains many divisi passages for the tenors in particular.

A postcard showing the bombardment of the Church of St. Sebastian in Nancy, France in September 1914. Florent Schmitt’s first musical studies in the 1880s were at the Nancy Conservatoire, located a short distance away from the church building.

On the back of the St. Sebastian Church postcard pictured above is a message written by Florent Schmitt in November 1915 to singer Hilda Roosevelt, the niece of President Theodore Roosevelt who had married the French poet, playwright and novelist Paul Arosa in 1899. In it, Schmitt writes: “Here is the church too happy to have shown itself in a bombardment, which doesn’t make it any less beautiful. But you, petite Hilda, must tell me quickly whether you are dead or alive. Where is Paul? And your beautiful tour of England, Germany, Spain, Belgium? Send me a quick note to tell me that, despite everything, life is good. Quickly — because the trenches are ready and the telephone operators exempt. I kiss you both.” In a bit of gallows humor, the composer signs off as “Florent Schmitt, 41st Terrible 15th Company, Toul (Meurthe-et-Moselle).”

Albert Gleizes: Portrait de Florent Schmitt. (sketchline, 1914)

During the 1914-15 period when both Albert Gleizes and Florent Schmitt were mobilized, the artist created no fewer than a half-dozen portraits of the composer.  The pieces include works in oils, lithographs, and pen-and-ink drawings.

The most famous of these creations is the painting titled Le Chant de guerre, portrait de Florent Schmitt, which was the artwork selected by the French postal service in 2012 to represent Cubism on a commemorative postage stamp.

Albert Gleizes: Etude pour Portrait de Florent Schmitt. (pen & ink, 1914-15)

Albert Gleizes: Portrait de Florent Schmitt (La Pianiste). (pastel, 1914-15)

Albert Gleizes: Portrait de Florent Schmitt. (pen & ink, 1915)

Albert Gleizes: Portrait de Florent Schmitt. (gouache with stencil, 1915)

Albert Gleizes: Le Chant de guerre, portrait de Florent Schmitt. (oil on canvas, 1915)

Julliette Roche and Albert Gleizes upon their arrival in New York City (1915).

In 1915, Albert Gleizes and Juliette Roche, now married, traveled to New York City where the two of them spent the remainder of the war (not counting a side trip to neutral Spain).  With the war’s end, the couple returned to Paris where they continued to move for a time in the circles of avant-garde society.  But for Albert in particular, the consequences of the war, coupled with the bitter failure of the Russian Revolution, seem to have brought on something of a personal crisis.

Albert Gleizes: Brooklyn Bridge. (oil on canvass, 1917)

Even so, the early 1920s would continue to see Gleizes focusing on a highly abstract brand of Cubism, in which he was described by Christopher Green in the book Cubism and its Enemies: Modern Movements and Reaction in French Art, 1916–1928 as “fusing aesthetic, metaphysical, moral and social priorities to describe the status and function of art.”

An interesting characterization of Gleizes’ artistic style was published as part of a retrospective of paintings exhibited recently by the Guggenheim Museum in New York City, which states in part:

Albert Gleizes: Portrait of Igor Stravinsky. (oil on canvass, 1914)

“The art of Albert Gleizes impresses with its complex harmony, depth of creative thought and, at the same time, the simplicity and clarity of its expression. 

Gleizes wasn’t interested in the genre of still life, preferring to live nature in landscapes and portraits.  In the center of his paintings there are nearly always people, along with a heap of complex geometric shapes in the background as an industrial ‘landscape.’ 

This compositional style, as well as the harmonious use of large planes and saturated colors, attracts the eye and makes the viewer study the canvas for a long time, noticing more and more details.”

Jules Roche (1841-1923)

With the death of Jules Roche, the Gleizes came into a sizable inheritance, which likely had a further tempering effect on some of Albert Gleizes’ more non-conformist attitudes.

In 1923 Gleizes and his wife settled in Serrières, south of Lyon.  Four years later the couple established Moly-Sabata, an artists’ community located in Sablons, in the Isère department of southeastern France.

In creating Moly-Sabata, Gleizes intended to forge a “redoubt of salvation” within a society that was destined, in his view, to undergo a collapse.  He was known to describe Moly-Sabata as a kind of refuge — “a center for detoxification” for people disillusioned with urban industrial society.

Moly-Sabata, Albert and Juliette Gleizes’ artists’ community and sanctuary. (Photo: Peter Brooke, 2012)

At Moly-Sabata, the couple offered studios and workshops even as they withdrew resolutely from the celebrity hustle and bustle that had once characterized their lives in Paris.

In the 1930s, Gleizes would begin to gravitate more towards Romanesque, Gothic, Byzantine and Arabic art as sources of inspiration, while concentrating increasingly on producing art for public spaces.  One of his most recognized works from this period is the mural The Fall of Babylon.

The Festivals of Lights at the 1937 Paris Exposition.

Another important commission for Gleizes was creating large murals for the 1937 Paris Exposition.  This project paralleled Florent Schmitt’s own Paris Expo involvement with the Fêtes de la lumière, the brainchild of architects Eugène-Elie Beaudouin and Marcel Lods for which Schmitt composed his brilliant Fête de la lumière, Op. 88 — music that was presented at the Expo’s evening extravaganzas of lights, water and music held on the banks of the Seine River.

Like Florent Schmitt and his wife Jeanne, Albert and Juliette Gleizes elected to remain in France during World War II.  In 1942, the artist began working on a series of creations he called Supports de contemplations — large-scale, non-representational paintings that were simultaneously complex and serene.  Art materials being difficult to procure during wartime, Gleizes improvised by painting on burlap, sizing the porous material with a glue-and-paint mixture.

In his final years, Gleizes’ outlook became increasingly spiritual and more “otherworldly.”  His last major creation was a 1952 fresco titled Eucharist, which he painted for the Jesuit chapel in Chantilly.  The artist died the following year at age 71, having long ago foresworn the rebelliousness of his youth and the notoriety that had come with it.

Albert Gleizes: Eucharist (1952). (Photo: Peter Brooke)

A photograph of Ida Rubinstein taken shortly before World War II.

In the trajectory of Albert Gleizes’ life, I see parallels with that of his near-contemporary Ida Rubinstein (1885-1960), the Russian-Jewish dancer and dramatic actress who commanded the limelight in Paris for three decades before withdrawing completely from public life and retiring to the south of France — quietly converting to Roman Catholicism and spending her final years in seclusion save for periodic visits to the abbey of Hautecombe near Chambrey.

As well, the artistic legacy of both personages is substantial.  Ida Rubinstein will forever be remembered as a person whose artistic passions — and financial largess — enabled the creation of important musical masterpieces by Ravel, Stravinsky, Schmitt and Honegger.

As for Albert Gleizes’ legacy, art historian Daniel Robbins sums it up this way:

“His paintings remain to testify to his willingness to struggle for final answers.  His is an abstract art of deep significance and meaning — paradoxically human even in his very search for absolute order and truth.”

Moly-Sabata today.

Albert Gleizes’ sanctuary Moly-Sabata has outlasted him and his wife.  Among its residents were the Australian potter Anne Dangar and the French weaver Lucie Deveyle who continued to play host to, in the words of Ulster-born artist and writer Peter Brooke, “a succession of sometimes-talented but often eccentric and difficult friends and contacts of the Gleizeses.”

Artists’ studios at Moly-Sabata. Note the paintings of Albert Gleizes displayed on the walls.

Today, Moly-Sabata is a residential center  for artists that is administered under the auspices of the Fondation Albert Gleizes, “without any particular references to Gleizes’ principles but with a lively sense of its inheritance,” as Brooke characterizes it.

In commemoration of the centenary of the publication of the book Du cubisme by Gleizes and Metzinger, in 2012 the Musée de La Poste presented a show in Paris that included more than 80 paintings and drawings created by some of the greatest exponents of the Cubist style.  Issued in concert with the exhibition was the Chant de guerre postage stamp immortalizing Florent Schmitt.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in the study of his home in St-Cloud. Note the Albert Gleizes artwork prominently displayed. (Photo: Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet, 1937)

And here’s one more note of interest: It’s a measure of the high esteem which Florent Schmitt held for Albert Gleizes that for  decades, one of the artist’s paintings hung prominently in Schmitt’s study at his home in St-Cloud.  The painting can be seen clearly in a series of photographs taken of the composer by the photographer Bruno Lipnitzki in 1937.

“Radicals,” “revolutionaries” or “frustrated conservatives”:  In the end, it mattered little when it came to the enduring relationships that developed in the tumultuous and endlessly fascinating times in Paris and France before, during after the Grande Guerre.

It was a dream come true for the three Prisma musicians, who prepared for nearly a decade before venturing into the recording hall to document their interpretation of Florent Schmitt’s String Trio.

Music-lovers who are familiar with Florent Schmitt’s artistry are most likely to know his big orchestral compositions, augmented in some cases by large choral forces.  But in the latter part of his career, the composer increasingly turned his attentions to writing music for chamber ensembles.  Among the most impressive (and challenging) of these pieces are his String Trio, Op. 105 (1944) and String Quartet, Op. 112 (1948) — works he composed when he was in his mid-70s.

They’re challenging pieces for some audience members because they reside in a sound-world that is polyrhythmic and polytonal in the extreme.  As the American violinist and conductor John McLaughlin Williams has written:

John McLaughlin Williams

“I find it interesting that Arnold Schoenberg and Florent Schmitt have much in common in their mature works.  The first composer used a system (more or less); the other went where his imagination took him – and yet musically they are not far apart at all.  Listen to both of their late string trios and you’ll hear what I mean.”

Moreover, the String Trio isn’t a challenge just for audiences; it poses more than its share of hurdles for the players as well.  (Indeed, one could argue that the Trio may well be more audience-friendly than musician-friendly!)

The Pasquier Trio

Schmitt wrote the piece for the Pasquier Trio (made up of siblings Jean, Pierre and Étienne Pasquier).  Reportedly, the musicians devoted an entire year of preparation before performing and recording the music, which was released on the EMI/Pathé label.

This 78-rpm recording was the only one of the music until the 1980s, when the second commercial recording appeared – another French production featuring the Albert Roussel String Trio (Eric Alberti, Pierre Llinares, Georges Schwartz) that was released on the Cybelia label.

Members of the Albert Roussel String Trio, who made the second recording of Florent Schmitt’s Trio à cordes in the 1980s.

Both of those recordings were short-lived in the catalogue, and neither of them has been reissued since their initial release.  But now after a hiatus of more than three decades, we finally have a new recording on the horizon.

For the members of the Netherlands-based Prisma String Trio (PRISMA Strijktrio), their relationship with Schmitt’s composition dates back nearly a decade.  Fully aware of the piece and its reputation long before taking it up in 2013, the piece’s difficulty gave them pause.

Prisma String Trio

As a result, the Prisma musicians have taken their time with the Trio, presenting it in full only within the past few years.

The COVID-19 pandemic was the catalyst that finally set the wheels in motion for recording the piece, which happened in July 2020.  The recording is being released internationally in May 2021 on the Cobra Records label, coupled with music by Darius Milhaud that dates from the same year as the Schmitt (1944), but which is far more intimate in character.

Members of the Prisma String Trio arriving at the recording venue: WestVest90, Schiedam, Netherlands. (July 2020)

I have been in regular touch with the Prisma musicians – violinist Janneke van Prooijen, violist Elisabeth Smalt and cellist Michiel Weidner — since 2018, and during that time I have followed their journey with Florent Schmitt’s String Trio with keen interest.  Now that the release of their recording is imminent, I approached them about participating in an interview to explore this chamber music masterpiece and why they find it to be such a compelling work.

All three musicians generously agreed to be interviewed.  Highlights of our very interesting discussion (which was conducted in English) are presented below.

PLN:  When did each of you first learn about the composer Florent Schmitt? 

Elisabeth Smalt:  In the 1990s I became friends with the late saxophone player William Raaijman, and discovered that we shared an interest in obscure or unknown composers.  He was always raving about Florent Schmitt.  Then at the Hortus Festival, for which William was serving as artistic leader, I heard him play Schmitt’s piece Légende on a vintage saxophone instrument.  I was quite taken by the beautifully soft and diaphanous sound in that piece. 

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Piano Quintet,(1902-08), inscribed by the composer to his elder compatriot Vincent d’Indy.

Later on I had the opportunity to play Schmitt’s Piano Quintet, which really opened my eyes as to how fantastic a composer he was.  This was truly a masterpiece, including a really wonderful viola part.  The Quintet definitely made me a “fan” of Schmitt’s music.  

There’s an interesting story I can tell about playing the Quintet on tour, which we presented in the orangery buildings of various botanical gardens.  We were playing on an Erard piano along with gut-string instruments.  This brought up an issue of the proper mutes to be using, as we didn’t want to use our modern mutes.  The old-fashioned wooden mutes sounded nice, but they had a tendency to fall off the bridge in the more passionate musical passages. 

I had inherited an old leather viola mute that worked very well, but in those days — 2006 I think – leather mutes like that were quite difficult to find.  Our cellist, Jay Insinger, arrived at rehearsal the next day wearing a different pair of shoes.  As it turned out, he had taken the leather from his old shoes and fashioned mutes from them — and they worked perfectly!

Michiel Weidner:  I first heard about Florent Schmitt at the age of fourteen when I played cello in the youth orchestra in Leiden, my hometown.  Our conductor at the time was always seeking out special repertoire that was just as fine quality as the standard fare but off the beaten track.  He talked about programming Schmitt, but wasn’t able to get hold of any orchestral parts.  

Later, when I was at the Conservatory of Amsterdam I played in a string trio with fellow students.  Of course we played a lot of Beethoven and such, but we wanted to find interesting unusual repertoire as well.  Unlike the reams of string quartets, scores for string trios were few and far between at the music store around the corner from the Concertgebouw.  Stopping by that shop one day, the owner pushed the music for Florent Schmitt’s String Trio under my nose and exclaimed, “This is interesting — you have to play this!” 

So, our trio got to work, but we soon had to give up.  The music was simply too complex and time-consuming to study in addition to doing our preparations for final exams.  And then after our exams, everyone went his own separate way.

Prisma String Trio

Janneke van Prooijen:  For me, I found out about Florent Schmitt when the Prisma Trio was established in 2002.  I asked a music friend for suggestions on repertoire.  Among the pieces mentioned was the name of Florent Schmitt, along with the remark, “His music is like Ravel but more crazy – and extremely difficult!”  That only piqued my curiosity more!

PLN:  Whose idea was it to investigate and ultimately perform the Schmitt String Trio?

Elisabeth Smalt:  I think it was Janneke’s idea.  I was immediately for it when she mentioned it because I was so curious about this composer.  I love to discover unknown music; it is very exciting for me — like a sort of musical archeology.  It also helped that I had had a happy experience with the Piano Quintet. 

Michiel took longer to warm to the idea.  He wasn’t sure if it was “worth it” in terms of the technical demands.

Michiel Weidner:  That’s correct.  It took some persuading, because I knew how difficult the piece would be to master.

Les Apaches (Painting: Georges d’Espagnat, 1910.)

Elisabeth Smalt:  We researched more information about Schmitt — including some interesting stories and photos about the composer that we found on your website — and gradually the picture of the composer began to came alive.  We discovered that Schmitt had been a founding member of the artists’ group Les Apaches, and that was something we could all relate to.  So in 2013 we began to work on the piece.

PLN:  What were your impressions of the Trio when you first encountered it?

Janneke van Prooijen:  For me it was the atmospherics of the music.  It struck me as very “French.”  Very rich in color.  Impressionism of course — but also more.  I loved it! 

But the piece was also difficult to decipher — not only the notes, but also the rhythms and time signatures.  It was pretty hard to put our parts together.

PLN:  Had you listened to either of the two recordings of the music before looking at the score?

First recording: Pasquier Trio (Pathé, 1946).

Elisabeth Smalt:  No, we didn’t have either recording when we started learning and practicing the piece.  In fact, we didn’t even know about the Roussel Trio’s 1985 recording until later on — and the 78-rpm recording by the Pasquier Trio even later still. 

Besides, to my mind, listening to other interpretations at an early stage generally isn’t a good idea.  There is much joy in discovering a piece by studying the written material, where the score can speak to you in a very direct way.  It keeps your ears fresh to make your own interpretation.

Michiel Weidner:  Like Elisabeth, I prefer not to listen to recordings before I’ve played and studied the music first.  It’s my way of discovering the interpretation that feels right to me.

Janneke van Prooijen:  The same with me.  I hadn’t listened to it before, and I usually prefer to learn a new piece from the score and develop my own ideas about it.

Elisabeth Smalt:  When the Pasquier Trio’s recording appeared on YouTube in 2017, I was happy to hear it then.  The famous Pasquier players commissioned many pieces, including this composition.  According to what I’ve read, they spent a full year practicing the piece, and I assume that they worked on it with Florent Schmitt himself, which makes it even more fascinating to hear their interpretation.  

In an interesting coincidence, the French translator of our CD booklet notes told us that his mother had been a personal friend of the Pasquiers.  The three of us visited his house recently and he showed us letter and photos — it was very intriguing.

PLN:  What technical challenges did you encounter when you began rehearsing the music?

Members of the Prisma String Trio during one of their many rehearsals of Florent Schmitt’s String Trio.

Michiel Weidner:  The technical demands are very high.  In fact, it often sounds like a string sextet even though it’s just three players with only ten fingers each!  At one of our early rehearsals we heard a deep sigh coming from Elisabeth’s corner:  “Oh, if only I had one more finger …” 

And then, on top of the technical demands you have to make it sound easy — just as you would with music of normal difficulty.

Elisabeth Smalt:  A big challenge is the grand scale of the piece overall.  You could say that there are no “easy bits” anywhere in the piece.  To figure out the fingerings was quite a challenge because of all the double-stops.  I could spend an hour to solve just one bar!  And once you’ve figured it out, you then have to ingrain the fingering into your system. 

Some chords seemed impossible at first sight — but the solutions presented themselves during the process.  Then after a while I would realize, “Hey, I can do it.  This is working!”

PLN:  How about artistic challenges?

Michiel Weidner:  Artistically, I think the piece “plays itself.”  It’s very clear what Florent Schmitt is meaning to express, I think.  In that regard I find him similar to Mozart.

Recording engineer Tom Peeters of Cobra Records during the Prisma String Trio’s recording session for Florent Schmitt’s Trio à cordes. (July 2020)

Elisabeth Smalt:  For me, the expression of the music came more gradually.  It’s like opening a present from the composer.  First there’s the hard work — we’re in the mists and can’t see that clearly where we’re going.  But gradually this absolutely wonderful piece emerges.  For a musician, that is such a rewarding experience.  It’s like climbing the Himalayas and finally reaching the summit where you see the wonderful view in all directions! 

But like with all excellent scores, the artistic vision will keep evolving.  Even in the studio when we were making our recording last summer, I was still discovering new things in the score, and I’m sure we’ll develop the piece further in the future.  That’s just how the artistic process works — it never ends!

PLN:  How long did you study and rehearse the String Trio before you presented it in performance?

Michiel Weidner:  Starting in 2013, I think the whole process took us four or five years.  We divided it into bite-sized chunks.

Janneke van Prooijen:  We studied and performed the movements one by one.  In one of our first programs, we played one movement from the Schmitt Trio in a program that also included music by Jean Cras and Georges Enescu.

Florent Schmitt dedicated his String Trio to the members of the Pasquier Trio, who premiered the piece and made its first recording.

Elisabeth Smalt:  We decided to learn one movement at a time and ignore the common practice of presenting an entire piece.  It was the only way for us to approach it and do justice to the music. 

One program we presented was called Belle époque.  It included music by Schmitt and other composers such as Satie, Massenet and Ravel, but also a player piano with Schmitt and other piano rolls operated by Max Lakeman along with a silent movie compilation prepared by vintage film collector and archivist Yvo Verschoor.  In addition, we had made several arrangements for string trio and piano of a few early pieces by Schmitt, and in that concert we also performed several movements from the String Trio. 

But it was only in 2018 that we dared to present the entire piece in a single concert – five years after we first started working on it!

PLN:  Let’s take each of the four movements of the String Trio individually.  Tell me your impressions of what makes the music special.  First, the Anime sans excès movement …

Michiel Weidner:  The first movement starts with a wake-up call.  It almost makes you think of the announcement of a circus show, where all sorts of colorful people and animals parade around — each having their own role, style and character.  It’s very joyful — but also a bit dangerous!

Janneke van Prooijen:  Michiel is right — it’s an energetic journey, but there is also a very sensual second theme.

Elisabeth Smalt:  I think this movement is very unique because Schmitt makes a string trio sound “symphonic.”  Already in the first bars he creates this imposing column of vertical sound, with many overtones.  It starts the piece in a most magnificent way! 

The shape of the movement is quite stretched out.  I count three main themes, and the way Schmitt uses those themes is very imaginative and playful — always fresh and surprising. 

There’s much ecstatic energy.  One might hear echoes of Debussy, Brahms, Schönberg of the Verklärte Nacht — but also a bit of jazz and a bit of Hollywood.  And yet, it couldn’t have been written by anyone other than Florent Schmitt. 

Picking up on Michiel’s circus reference, I hear a certain chord progression that is so typical of Schmitt — a kind of Trugschluss [fallacy] where you think a phrase is ending … but at the last moment it continues on and there is a twirling motion as if you’re on a carousel at the fair.  For audiences it can be quite overwhelming — and the only option is for them to simply surrender to it and go with the flow.

Michiel Weidner:  In the title of this movement Schmitt includes the term “without exaggeration.”  That’s a pretty weird description.

Elisabeth Smalt:  Yes, in our rehearsals we had a good laugh about that, because despite the description this movement and others are quite “excessive” in character!  Schmitt seems to be toying with the performers — but then again it might mean something like “just play musically; the metronome marking is a suggestion but don’t overdo it.”

PLN:  How about the second movement — Alerte sans exagération?

Janneke van Prooijen:  To me, it brings to mind a swinging dance — alternating between naivety and a wry samba.

Michiel Weidner:  I likewise think of it as a kind of nervous samba, which is an apparent contradiction.  It’s restless, yet it has a beautiful intermezzo.

Elisabeth Smalt:  There’s a rich rhythmic structure that the composer uses, weaving different patterns through the music — 3 against 4 against 5, and so forth.  It’s vintage Florent Schmitt, and it makes me wonder if this is part of what inspired and influenced Stravinsky in his Sacre du printemps 30 years earlier – indulging in that freedom with mathematical structures.

PLN:  And turning to the third movement — Lent?

Janneke van Prooijen:  It’s a movement of great depth and with amazing colors.  I have never encountered another movement in a string trio that builds so effectively as this one does.

The members of the Prisma String Trio during the recording session for the Florent Schmitt String Trio. The recording location was WestVest90, a former church building known for its fine acoustical qualities. (July 2020)

Elisabeth Smalt:  This one is my favorite.  It’s a true masterpiece where Schmitt does this wonderful thing of “painting” with notes.  He’s layering different materials and forming chords that move like clouds.  Echoing what Janneke says, I haven’t found any other composer that does this in quite the same way. 

The cello starts the journey, very solemnly.  Then comes the landscape of watercolors that fade into one another to form new colors, with gradually changing chords: sounds layered over other sounds, with no clear corners.  The long melody is nearly hidden but moves along — singing on and on — until again the cello brings us to an arrival point.  To me, it feels like being on a mountain where I can see both ways. 

Then we descend into a musical valley reminiscent of Debussy’s Pelléas, which is a piece that meant much to Schmitt from an early age, so I’ve read.  In this passage I really admire Schmitt’s ability to make a string trio sound like a symphony orchestra.  It’s like magic, and it takes us to a climax of a glorious brass-like melody. 

And then the cello returns us to the landscape of the beginning — but transformed and different.  Finally the theme, this time in octaves in the violin, comes to a shining climax and the coda, trembling with emotion, fades to silence.

Michiel Weidner:  Very simply, this movement is beautiful — and a cellist’s dream!

PLN:  How about the final movement, which bears the intriguing title À allure d’une ronde animé?

Michiel Weidner:  Intriguing, yes — like all of Florent Schmitt’s music.  This is a “grand finale” in every sense of the term.  Gloriously complex chords along with a lot of movement and drive.  It’s simply fabulous.

Janneke van Prooijen:  The final movement is exceptionally difficult.  One could title it “Tarantella: Dance ‘til You Die!”  We spent quite a bit of time figuring out how the rhythms should be interpreted and played.  The movement also has a great second theme that builds to a magnificent climax, where the three instruments sound like a big symphony orchestra.

Elisabeth Smalt:  In some ways this movement is the most difficult one because of its structure and the fast tempo.  The title is indeed intriguing; the wild and crazy dance element is there right from the start — and it’s at a crazy tempo as well.  The rondo-like theme emerges a bit later; it seems happy — but not completely.  It’s fast and feverish, like a dream or delirium.  

Amidst the rondo theme there are contrasting passages where Schmitt is so inventive and ecstatic.  It seems almost like an escape into another world – a paradise, perhaps.  It becomes more and more transformed when moving forward to the conclusion, such that when it ultimately ends in an optimistic E-major, it is glorious!

PLN:  How many times have you presented the String Trio in concert?  How have audiences responded to it?

Michiel Weidner:  We’ve played it about ten times.

Elisabeth Smalt:  We even presented it twice in one day because of coronavirus rules allowing a maximum of just 30 listeners in the room …

Janneke van Prooijen:  Audiences are overwhelmed by the music whenever they hear it.  Because it is complex, people have told us afterwards that they wanted to hear it again to understand it better.

Elisabeth Smalt:  It has gotten an enthusiastic reaction.  People don’t perceive that the piece is long and they aren’t bored, even for a moment.

Michiel Weidner:  That’s true.  The piece lasts more than a half-hour, but people are on the edge of their chairs the entire time.

PLN:  How did the new recording come about?

Violist Elisabeth Smalt and cellist Michiel Weidner listen to playbacks during the Prisma String Quartet’s recording session for Florent Schmitt’s String Trio. (July 2020)

Michiel Weidner:  For a long time we hoped that we could make a recording of this music to share with the world.  But it’s been a challenge to realize this.  The effort is all-consuming and we need to earn a living; to record a piece like this is a big sacrifice!

Elisabeth Smalt:  This was a long-time wish.  There are a few “big pieces” for string trio like the early Beethoven trios, Mozart’s Divertimento, Schubert, and a few other pieces from composers like Hindemith, Roussel and Jean Cras.  The Florent Schmitt absolutely deserves to be on the list, too — which is one reason why we wanted to record it.

Janneke van Prooijen:  The corona lockdown provided us with a golden opportunity:  Suddenly there was time to prepare the piece for recording!

Michiel Weidner:  In that sense the lockdown was a blessing in disguise.  Suddenly our diaries were blank, so we started right away to prepare.

Tonmeister Tom Peeters checks microphone placement during the Prisma String Trio recording session in Schiedam, Netherlands. (July 2020)

Janneke van Prooijen:  We were very happy that Tom Peeters of Cobra Records, who I already knew from other collaborations, was open to our proposal to release the Schmitt Trio on his label, along with Darius Milhaud’s La Muse ménagère.  That piece is an ideal disk-mate:  intimate music to balance against the monumental Schmitt.

Elisabeth Smalt:  The Milhaud is a work of 15 short movements for solo piano, all on “household” subjects.  The composer, who was ill at the time, worked on them in secret and gave them to his wife, Madeleine, as a thank-you present for her birthday. 

Ulster-born musicologist Bob Gilmore (1961-2015).

For me personally, this piece was very special.  My longtime partner, Bob Gilmore, prepared six of the movements for string trio towards the end of his life — we were together for 14 years and he died of cancer at age 53 in 2015.  As Milhaud had done, with these six arrangements Bob thanked me for caring for him during his illness. 

Darius Milhaud (1892-1974) pictured with his wife, Madeleine Milhaud (1902-2008).

Then Janneke and Michiel suggested that we arrange the remaining Milhaud movements as well.  It was truly a family affair as Janneke’s brother and her husband, along with Michiel’s wife — all musicians and arrangers — prepared the nine remaining movements.  So this is how the rest of the recording came to fruition.

PLN:  Can you share any interesting anecdotes about the Schmitt recording session, or preparing for it?

Janneke van Prooijen:  I remember one rehearsal in the month before the recording session.  We were practicing slowly a particularly difficult passage for what must have been the 100th time when Elisabeth suddenly exclaimed, “Ah, but it is possible after all!”

“Happy ghosts”: The conclusion of the recording session for the Florent Schmitt String Trio. (July 2020)

Elisabeth Smalt:  I recall that at the end of the recording session, it felt like my arms were going to fall off my body.  We were completely drained, physically and mentally.  In the photo that was taken at the end of the session, you can see that we look like happy ghosts!

Michiel Weidner:  We recorded the Schmitt String Trio this past July, in the midst of the corona lockdown, in Schiedam which is a cute little town near Rotterdam.  It’s thoroughly Dutch — famous for its historic town center with canals (as well as for its Dutch gin).  It also has the tallest windmills in the world.  Basically, you cannot be any more “Dutch” than Schiedam.  

Channeling Jeanne Schmitt’s Peugeot while taking a well-deserved break during the recording session.

Jeanne Schmitt (Photo: ©Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

At lunchtime, we were strolling along the deserted canals and saw a late-1940s model Peugeot car parked on the brick pavement.  We recognized it as the same model of car in a photo taken of Florent Schmitt’s wife, Jeanne Schmitt.  It reminded us that the life of the Schmitts is relatively recent history — just like the life of the Milhauds, with Madeleine living until 2008 and the age of 105!

PLN:  Do you have future plans to perform Florent Schmitt’s String Trio in concert?

Evangelizing for Florent Schmitt’s String Trio: Prisma Trio goes on the air at Netherlands Radio 4. (April 2021)

Elisabeth Smalt:  We hope to embark on a CD release tour here in the Netherlands and abroad, if the corona situation improves and allows us to do so …

Janneke van Prooijen:  It would be wonderful to tour in the USA as well, if possible.  If you are aware of any institutions that could support this endeavor, please let us know!

Michiel Weidner:  Of course we plan to perform the piece, and we expect that the recording will help generate more interest from programmers at the major concert venues. 

Splendor Amsterdam

We’ll do a release tour as soon as circumstances allow us to play in front of live audiences again.  In the meantime, our first concert will be a streamed one — at Splendor Amsterdam, our home base.  It’s scheduled for May 23, 2021, and it will be broadcast worldwide.

PLN:  The Prisma String Trio may be the only ensemble in the world that keeps Florent Schmitt’s Trio in its repertoire today.  Should other groups explore this music and perform it as well?

Janneke van Prooijen:  Of course!  Everyone should play Schmitt’s beautiful music.  My advice would be to practice slowly and work at finding the wonderful harmonies.

Elisabeth Smalt:  Absolutely.  I hope our recording will encourage others to take it up as part of their repertoire.  For me, the mark of a great composer like Florent Schmitt is when their music invites different interpretations.  Our recording is but one way to play this piece, and I look forward to hearing other interpretations.

Michiel Weidner:  Two words: “Do it!”

PLN:  In conclusion, do you have any additional observations you’d like to make about Florent Schmitt and his artistry?

Janneke van Prooijen:  For me, I just enjoy playing Schmitt’s music so much.  I like to drift away in the colors and into the fantasy world he creates.

Elisabeth Smalt:  For some people, the story of Florent Schmitt is somewhat complex because of his activities during the Second World War.  But if you read the recent biography of him by Catherine Lorent, there emerges the portrait of a composer whose overriding goal was to preserve opportunities for new music in France, which he was able to do as head of a foundation.  

Florent Schmitt, photographed at his home in St-Cloud during the 1940s.

The Vichy government and the Germans were clever to use the foundation as a way to pass themselves off as being open to the avant-garde in music.  Schmitt, who spent most of the war years in the Pyrenees, wasn’t aware enough to discern that he was being “used” in a political way.  We see that he advocated for new music and he continued to write music himself — the String Trio dates from the last years of the war — and he also used his position to advocate on behalf of some Jewish musicians. 

Florent Schmitt and Arnold Schoenberg, together aboard ship (North Sea, 1920).

After the war Schmitt was investigated, but contended that he never promoted Nazi ideas in any way.  Arnold Schoenberg and others come to his defense.  He appeared in front of a special tribunal and the verdict was that he is rehabilitated — a one-year ban on performances of his music issued retroactively to the date. I think it’s important for people to realize that Schmitt wanted to focus purely on music, but in the process naively got caught in the wheels of history at a time when politics was consuming everything in its path.

Michiel Weidner:  I like to say that to play and record Florent Schmitt, you almost have to be a lunatic.  Of course, as musicians we know which music is good (and which is bad).  We’re ready to put a lot of effort into great music, but it is very encouraging to find allies among music-lovers and audiences around the world who are ready to be our advocates — our ambassadors — in this endeavor. 

We’re so grateful that we found in you a passionate Schmitt defender.  You and your fellow Schmittians may be even more passionate than we are!  I sometimes wonder if we could have been successful in our endeavors if not for the realization that you were out there, eagerly awaiting the finished product and cheering us on.

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Michiel Weidner is correct when he talks about the growing ranks of music-lovers who appreciate — and advocate for — Florent Schmitt and his musical legacy.  Of course, none of that advocacy would matter were it not for the effort and energy of performers who make the commitment to bring Schmitt’s endlessly fascinating creations to life.

Through their many years of study and preparation relating to Florent Schmitt’s String Trio, all three Prisma musicians have proven themselves to be among the most dedicated artists on behalf of the composer.  We’re grateful to them all.

You can order the Prisma String Trio’s new recording directly from the Cobra Records website, or via various online music retail outlets such as here and here.

To learn more about the Prisma Trio’s efforts to raise funds to take Florent Schmitt’s music on tour in Europe and hopefully beyond, you can check out the crowdfunding campaign page here.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in 1937 the study of his home in St-Cloud, one year before composing En bonnes voix. (Photo: Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

Throughout his extraordinarily long and productive life, the French composer Florent Schmitt would return again and again to the human voice.  His earliest catalogued compositions dating from the 1880s were various mélodies, and his final work was the Messe en quatres parties for mixed chorus and organ, completed just a few months before his death in 1958.

Elisabeth Brasseur (1896-1972)

In between is a wealth of vocal and choral music including a number of sets that Schmitt penned for a cappella chorus.  One of these is En bonnes voix, Op. 91 (In Good Voice), a set of six secular choruses composed in 1938 and that had its premiere later that year, presented by the Choeurs Elisabeth Brasseur in a Société Musicale Indépendente concert in Paris.

For this piece as with numerous of his other vocal sets, Schmitt turned to a variety of texts – including several of his own – in creating the six pieces that make up the set.  A brief synopsis of each vignette is as follows:

I.  On dist que … (text by Jéhan Froissart, 13^th century writer) — I’m said to be conceited – proud of my virginal youth and charm — but my suitors beg me not to be so stubborn.

II.  Prince et bergère (English folk text) — A gentleman courts a girl but when he finds out that she is a mere shepherd lass and has no dowry besides her youth and beauty, he no longer desires her.  “No one cared anyway, dear sir,” the girl replies.

III.  Le Passant de Passy (text by Florent Schmitt) — Immersed in thought, a poet on a bicycle collides with a pedestrian.  The police officer takes him to the constable for an interrogation.  Afterwards the poet, immersed in thought, steps out of the station — and collides with a motorcar.

IV.  Tournez s’il vous plait (text by Florent Schmitt) — Keep on dancing, for life is short.  With those tiny feet, go after your dreams.  Fill the air with laughter; shimmer and shine.

V.  La Mort du rossignol (English folk text) — A nightingale is killed by a vulture.  The spider spins a death shroud and other birds join in the funeral ceremony.

VI.  La Mode commode (18^th century text) — A shepherd knows just the right methods to teach his girl how to kiss.

The music writer Alain Patrick Olivier has commented on Schmitt’s selection of texts, observing:

Alain Patrick Olivier

“Besides the ‘lost property’ that are the popular songs … there are compositions based on texts by ‘Yks,’ a mysterious pseudonym for an anonymous author who was most likely none other than the composer himself.  These veer between practical jokes and trivial poetry, and are largely devoted to research into the sounds of language.”

The American music critic Steven Kruger goes a step further, writing:

Steven Kruger

“This piece would be perfect for irreverent college choral groups in an intimate setting. Schmitt had the unusual ability, which Stravinsky didn’t, of making neoclassic harmony coexist with sexiness, snark, remarkable irony, and that particular French obsession with civic rules which here turns a cyclist’s traffic accident into song.”

Collectively, the six pieces that make up En bonnes voix run approximately 12 to 15 minutes in duration depending on the interpretation, but because there is no overarching narrative tying the them together, the individual movements can also be performed separately.

Moreover, a “further description” printed on the original score of En bonnes voix (published by Durand in 1938) points to the versatility of performers that the composer envisioned when creating the music:  “Six triolets (or their multiples) either of women (or children) or of men — or both together — for a cappella choir.”

However, evidence also points to a second version of the score that the composer prepared shortly before the end of his life for performance by a mixed chorus, in which the vocal assignations are more explicitly spelled out.  This 1955 version of the score leaves out one of the six numbers (Tournez s’il vous plait), and the order of the others is changed so that Le passant de Passy comes last.  This alternative version of the score was premiered in 1955 at the Concerts Oubradous in Paris, performed by the Chorale Planel.

Jean-Paul Kreder

Live performances of En bonnes voix appeared in concerts broadcast over French radio during the 1950s and 1960s, often featuring the Ensemble Madrigal de l’O.R.T.F under the direction of Jean-Paul Kreder and Jean Gitton. The piece was also one of the works featured in a concert organized in 1959 by Les Amis de la musique de chambre in memory of Florent Schmitt, who had passed away the previous fall.  That performance featured Yvonne Gouverné and the Maîtrise de Radio France women’s chorus.  At the same memorial concert Schmitt’s late-career quartet Pour presque tous les temps (composed in 1956) was also performed.

Yves Hucher, Schmitt’s biographer, was present at the memorial event and commented afterwards, “For the first time he was not there, hiding somewhere in the concert hall — and the emotion of everyone was very deep.”

The Esoterics

As a composition, En bonnes voix has been described by Eric Banks, founder and director of the choral group The Esoterics, as “French fascination with stanza and style.”  This Seattle-based group presented the 1955 mixed chorus version of the piece in concert in 2004.

Ensemble Solistes XXI presenting Florent Schmitt’s En bonnes voix, led by Rachid Safir.

Other performances of the 1955 version in recent years have included Ensemble Solistes XXI, a choral group of young singers performing under the direction of Rachid Safir, presented at a concert in Paris in 2010.  In Canada, the Vancouver Chamber Choir under the direction of Jon Washburn presented the music in performances in Winnipeg and Vancouver in 2016.

The Vancouver Chamber Choir

Most recently, excerpts from the set were performed in 2019 in Pantin, France by a women’s chorus under the direction of Leila Galeb (1938 version).  A May 2020  planned performance by Canada’s Ensemble Vocal Del Segno led by Guillaume St-Gelais has had to be postponed due to the COVID-19 outbreak.

Other choral directors who have presented En bonnes voix in whole or in part include Maud Hamon-Loisance in France (Choeurs Métaphores), Nicolas Fink in Germany and Portugal, and Akos Erdös in Hungary.  (Of the six pieces in the set, Le passant de Passy and La Mort du rossignol appear to be the ones performed separately most often.)

First recording (Supraphon, 1968).

As for commercial recordings, the first one was released in 1968.  Emanating from an unexpected source, it features the Slovak Philharmonic Chorus under the direction of Ján Maria Dobrodinskỳ performing the 1955 version for mixed chorus.  Released on the Supraphon label as part of an LP album titled “Modern French Music for a cappella Choir,” En bonnes voix was featured along with compositions by Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc and Milhaud.

The Supraphon recording is quite lush, with the chorus delivering a full-bodied “Central European sound”  replete with well-rounded edges and aided by the resplendent acoustics of the Protestant Church of Bratislava.

Supraphon’s version of the 1968 recording produced for distribution in the West featured distinctly more “sensual” cover art.

As technically proficient as the performance is, I’m not convinced that the interpretation quite captures the flavor of the music and the texts in the most idiomatic way.  (But you can judge for yourself, as the Supraphon recording has been uploaded to YouTube and can be heard here.)

More successful, in my view, are two recordings made more recently – both of them using the 1938 version of the score.

The Gilbert Patenaude recording from 2000, released on the Canadian ATMA label.

One is a recording by Le Jeune Opéra du Québec (a chorus made up of women and girls aged 8 to 21) under the direction of Gilbert Patenaude and released in 2000 on the Canadian ATMA label.  This is the swiftest recording of the piece that I’ve heard — clocking in at around 12 minutes — and to my ears it is a very successful interpretation.  In its musical character, it very much reflects Mr. Patenaude’s own description of these mélodies:

“Schmitt employs powerful musical techniques with precision and humor: largely expanded tonal or modal harmony, unusual melodic intervals, diversified and complex rhythmic figures, use of humming and vocalization, sudden changes in nuance and tempo.  These delicately etched miniatures evoke a story, a fable, or a flirtatious song with a definite French flavor.”

Florent Schmitt’s En bonnes voix: Original issue on the Calliope label (2001).

The most recent commercial recording of the complete set was made the following year — in 2001 — and features the Choeur de femmes Calliope led by Régine Theodoresco.  This recording offers all the music that Florent Schmitt created for female (or children’s) chorus. A finely crafted performance, this En bonnes voix is somewhat different in flavor from the ATMA recording since the Calliope singers are women rather than young girls.  Originally released on the Calliope label, in subsequent years this recording has been reissued by Timpani Records.

The reissued recording on the Timpani label (2014).

As for excerpts from the complete set, La Mort du rossignol was recorded in 2016 by the Octopus Chamber Choir under the direction of Bart van Reyn (released on the Etcetera label as part of a recording titled “Birds of Paradise“).

La Mort du rossignol, part of the “Birds of Paradise” recording by the Octopus Chamber Choir (2016).

On the basis of recent history, for En bonnes voix the trajectory appears to be positive.  As the score becomes better known to choral directors, my expectation is that its various movements will be performed with greater frequency.  Musically rewarding for performers, they will also appeal to today’s audiences who are better accustomed to the harmonic surprises that exist within the music’s tonal framework.

At the same time, En bonnes voix reflects Schmitt’s own love of literary inspiration — a composer who, according to Alain Patrick Olivier, “savored with equal taste, independence and ironic detachment the broadest array of musical and literary references.”

In a classical music world finally emerging from the COVID-19 crisis, orchestras are beginning again to program “large orchestra” works that had been embargoed due to social distancing requirements. It bodes well for French composer Florent Schmitt’s big, highly colorful scores.

Florent Schmitt’s music comes roaring back in the 2021-22 concert season as the music world emerges from the COVID crises. (Portrait: Pierrette Lambert, 1992)

The year 2020 was one of several important anniversaries for classical music composers.  The biggest one, of course, was Ludwig van Beethoven’s 250th birthday anniversary.  But 2020 was also the 150th anniversary of Florent Schmitt’s birth.

Accordingly, the number of orchestral performances planned for Schmitt’s anniversary season was the largest amount seen in recent history.  But then the COVID-19 pandemic burst onto the scene with little warning, scuttling concerts throughout the world.

Nearly all of the Florent Schmitt concerts planned in 2020-21 were casualties as well — except for several in Japan and Germany that were able to go on because they required only chamber-sized ensembles which could be accommodated in highly restricted performance environments.

Thankfully, with the dawn of the new concert season we’re now seeing new signs of life for orchestras, and for devotees of Florent Schmitt’s music, it means the opportunity to experience seven of Schmitt’s important orchestral works in concert planned for the United States, Europe and Japan.

Listed below are details on the upcoming season’s concerts, along with web links to  find out additional information about the performances and ticket reservations.  (Note:  More concerts likely to be announced in the coming weeks, as some orchestras are publishing their program calendars later than usual.)

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September 23 (Paris) & 25 (Evian-les-bains), 2021

Schmitt: Le Palais hanté, Op. 49 (1900-04)

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 9

Tchaikovsky: Concerto in D Major for Violin & Orchestra, Op. 35

Orchestre National de France; Cristian Măcelaru, conductor

Leonidas Kavakos, violin

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October 13 (Tokyo) & 14 (Kyoto), 2021

Schmitt: Lied et scherzo, Op. 54 (1910)

Françaix: Concerto for Trombone & Wind Ensemble

Françaix:  Le Gai Paris

Gipps:  Sinfonietta

Poulenc:  Sonata for Horn, Trumpet & Trombone

Satie:  Sonnerie pour reveiller le bon gros roi des singes

Sinfonietta Shizuoka; Tomoya Nakahara, conductor

Yoshiyuki Tsukihara, French horn

Tadaaki Kato, trombone

Jun’ichiro Sugiki, trumpet

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October 28, 2021

Schmitt: Suite en trois parties, Op. 133 (1955)

Dukas:  Polyeucte Overture

Jolas:  Onze Lieder for Trumpet & Orchestra

Poulenc:  Les Biches, Ballet Suite

Malmö Symphony Orchestra; Fabien Gabel, conductor

Håkan Hardenberger, trumpet

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December 13, 2021

Schmitt: La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50 (1907/10)

Bonis: Salomé, Op. 100

Richard Strauss: Salome: Dance of the Seven Veils

Stravinsky: Le Sacre du printemps

Osnabrück Symphony Orchestra; Andreas Hotz, conductor

Osnabrück Theatre Women’s Chorus

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February 18, 2022

Schmitt: Janiana Symphony for Strings, Op. 101 (1941)

Ferroud: Symphony in A Major

Hindemith:  Konzertmusik for Strings and Winds, Op. 50

Ladmirault:  Rhapsodie gaélique: Chanson écossaise des basses-terres

Sinfonietta Shizuoka; Tomoya Nakahara, conductor

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April 22-23, 2022

Schmitt: La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50 (1907/10)

Bonis: Salomé, Op. 100

Hillborg: Concerto for Cello & Orchestra 

Richard Strauss: Salome: Dance of the Seven Veils

Detroit Symphony Orchestra; Fabien Gabel, conductor

Nicolas Altstaedt, cello

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May 12, 2022

Schmitt: Reves, Op. 65 (1915)

Schmitt: Psaume XLVII, Op. 38 (1904)

Poulenc: Concerto for Two Pianos & Orchestra

Stravinsky Le Chant du rossignol

Orchestre National de France; Fabien Gabel, conductor

Marie Perbost, soprano

Karol Mossakowski, organ

Chœur de Radio France

Katia & Marielle Labèque, duo-pianists

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May 19, 2022

Schmitt:  La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50 (1907/10)

Britten:  Les Illuminations, Op. 18

Debussy:  Nocturnes 

Hamburg Symphony Orchestra; Sylvain Cambreling, conductor

Women’s Voices of the Europa Chor Akademie Görlitz

Sebastian Kohlhepp, tenor

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More information on these upcoming concerts can be found on the web pages of the various arts organizations (click or tap on the links above).

In the coming weeks, it is likely that additional concerts featuring Florent Schmitt’s music will be announced for the upcoming season. They will be added to the listing above as soon as the information is known.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in his study in 1937. This was a particularly sorrowful time for Schmitt, as three of his closest composer friends — Paul Dukas, Albert Roussel and Maurice Ravel — had died within the past two years. (Photo: Lipnitzki-Roger Viollet)

Living and working as he did throughout the entirety of France’s “Golden Age” of classical music, Florent Schmitt was well-acquainted with all of the significant composers of the day in Paris.  Among the most famous of them — Achille-Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, Albert Roussel and Paul Dukas — the latter three were particularly close friends of Schmitt, so it must have been a poignant loss when all three of them passed away within only a two-year span (1935-37).

Henry Prunières, photographed in 1935 at his editor’s desk at La Revue musicale. Prunières (1886-1942) founded the magazine in 1920, which was published until the onset of World War II. A magazine with high journalistic standards and equally high production values, its archives remain a reference resource for music specialists today.

It is also a measure of the importance of these composers that La Revue musicale, the respected  arts magazine founded and led by Henry Prunières, would commemorate these composers in the pages of the magazine.

In particular, Paul Dukas was the subject of a special May/June 1936 issue of the magazine that was devoted exclusively to the composer’s artistry.  As had also been done with Revue musicale editions honoring Debussy and Gabriel Fauré, Prunières asked group of composers to contribute short piano pieces written in tribute to their musical colleague and mentor.

The cover of the May/June 1936 issue of La Revue Musicale, commemorating the life and work of Paul Dukas included musical tributes from nine fellow composers including Florent Schmitt, Manuel de Falla, Olivier Messiaen and others.

In addition to publishing Florent Schmitt’s contribution, the music supplement to the May/June special issue of La Revue musicale included piano pieces written in tribute by eight other composers, including:

• Tony Aubin
• Elsa Barraine
• Manuel de Falla
• Yulian Krein
• Olivier Messiaen
• Gabriel Pierné
• Joaquín Rodrigo
• Joseph-Guy Ropartz

The choice of the nine composers was an interesting mix; Dukas’ longtime friends and musical colleagues (de Falla, Pierné, Ropartz and Schmitt) were joined by five younger composers who had studied with the master (Aubin, Barraine, Krein, Messiaen and Rodrigo).

The special music supplement accompanying the May/June 1936 issue of La Revue musicale. The supplement contained piano pieces contributed by nine composers — all of them friends or one-time students of Paul Dukas.

Just as he had done with his commemorative piano pieces written for the Revue musicale‘s special tributes to Debussy (1920) and Gabriel Fauré (1922), Florent Schmitt integrated his Dukas tribute into piano suites that he had published soon thereafter.  The Dukas tribute became the first piece of a three-part set that was published by Durand in 1937 under the collective title Chaîne brisée, Op. 87.

The name is significant in that it refers to a proverb describing how the loss of a prominent member of a group is akin to a chain whose links have been broken.  This characterization fits perfectly with Paul Dukas and the how the loss of his talent was felt among his family of fellow-composers.

While Schmitt wrote the majority of his solo piano music relatively early in his career, Chaîne brisée is one of a quartet of sets he composed between the ages of 65 and 71 — the others being Trois danses (1935), Small Gestures (1940) and Enfants (1941).  The latter two are compositions written about (or for) children, whereas the other two are perhaps more representative of Schmitt’s mature compositional style.

Three three movements that make up Chaîne brisée unfold as follows:

I.  Stèle pour le tombeau de Paul Dukas (Stele for the Tomb of Paul Dukas) — Derived from a Latin word, a stele is a wooden or stone slab which during ancient times was erected as a monument — often for funerary purposes and often adorned with an inscription or ornamentation. The version of this piece that was published by Durand was an expansion on the original music that was included in the Revue musicale Dukas anthology.

First recording of the Stèle movement: Annie d’Arco on the Calliope label (1975).

The Stèle begins with the repeated tolling of a note, above which a chordal theme rises and falls.  A second theme, introduced with passion and freed from the incessant tolling, proclaims the glory of the late composer.  But the death knell creeps in again, insidiously, reminding us how those who mourn cannot easily break free from their grief, and instead will shiver long in their sorrow and regret.  The piece is a moving tribute to a composer who was only a little older than Schmitt but whose death came far earlier in life, as Schmitt would survive Dukas by nearly 25 years.

II.  Barcarolle des sept vierges (Barcarolle of the Seven Virgins) — Described by musicologist Arthur Hoérée as “fluid and flexible,” this movement of the set, which was dedicated to the pianist Micheline Moris-Therion, begins with a softly lyrical undulating first theme. After an ascending scale, this gives way to a second theme that develops to a loud climax before ending with a quiet coda.  I have been unable to locate the literary source or other inspiration behind this movement.

Branle d’Orrau, a painting by Alfred Dartiguenave (1856).

III.  Branle de sortie (Final Dance) — Built on a country line dance popular through history in France, Schmitt may have been inspired by the folk dances of the Burgundy region — or perhaps by the Haute-Pyrenees region where the composer had a country house in Artiguemy and where this movement was penned.  The piece begins with a boisterous rhythmic theme in three-quarter time.  A contrasting soft, lyrical middle theme provides a notable contrast with the strongly accented rhythms that begin and end the dance.

“Something borrowed, something bright”: The second theme from Florent Schmitt’s Branle de sortie was also used in the composer’s extravagant showpiece Fête de la lumière, presented eight times at the Paris Exposition in 1937.

Interestingly, that same middle theme was employed by Schmitt in his large-scale orchestral work Fête de la lumière — a piece composed at about the same time and which was presented eight times at the evening Festivals of Lights events held on the banks of the Seine River during the 1937 Paris Exposition. Here, the theme is played by the ondes martenot rather than piano — but with either instrument, it’s one of those unmistakably Schmittian themes that are equal parts delirious and ecstatic .(Trust me on this.)

Pauline Gordon (1910-2000)

Chaîne brisée is not as well-known as most of Florent Schmitt’s other sets of pieces for solo piano.  Following its premiere at a Société nationale de musique concert in Paris by pianist Pauline Gordon in 1937 (she was also the dedicatee of the final movement of the suite), the composition did not achieve the kind of play that the nearly contemporaneous Trois danses attained in its early years.

Henriette Puig-Roget (1910-1992)

However, during the 1950s and 60s Chaîne brisée was championed by the pianist Henriette Puig-Roget, who also included it in several recital performances that were broadcast over Radio France.

First complete recording of Chaîne brisée: Alain Raës (1985).

Similarly, whereas Trois danses was commercially recorded as far back as 1957, the first complete recording of Chaîne brisée wouldn’t happen until a half-century following its creation — in 1985 in a recording by pianist Alain Raës that was released on the FY label (later reissued on CD).

Since then, there has been just one additional complete recording made of the music, released in 2008 on the Claudio label that features pianist Ray Luck (appropriately coupled with piano music by Paul Dukas).

Annie d’Arco (1920-1998)

In addition to the two commercial recordings of the complete suite that exist, the Stèle movement was recorded separately in 1975 by the pianist Annie d’Arco.  Pre-dating the first complete recording by a decade, the d’Arco reading was released on a Calliope LP that also included music by Dukas and Roussel.

While there are some interpretive differences between them, all three pianists do justice to Florent Schmitt’s score with sensitive and idiomatic performances of the music. I am particularly enamored with Annie d’Arco’s interpretation of the Stèle movement, while Alain Raës’ performance of Branle de sortie is impressive — particularly the intoxicatingly gorgeous middle section.

The 1985 Ray Luck recording (Claudio Records).

The Ray Luck recording has been uploaded to YouTube along with the piano score, courtesy of George ‘Nick’ Gianopoulos and his estimable music channel.

Charles Munch (1891-1968)

But there’s more to the story:  As was so often the case with Florent Schmitt, the composer orchestrated the music — or in this case the first and third pieces of the set.  The orchestrated works were premiered by Charles Munch and the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra in December 1938 (Stèle) and Jean Morel with the Paris Symphony Orchestra the following month (Branle de sortie).

To read descriptions of the orchestrated pieces is to make one eager to hear them.  In the Stèle movement in particular, the repeated death knell is consigned alternatively to the horn, clarinet and bassoon, and ornamented by the harp and celesta.  Knowing as we do Schmitt’s unfailing abilities at coaxing magnificent colors from the orchestra, the overall effect must be extraordinary.

Jean Morel (1903-1975)

Unfortunately, we have no audio documentation of the orchestrated movements — nor any clear evidence that they have even been performed in the years following their premieres.

What’s more, it isn’t evident that the orchestral parts are readily available from the publisher.  They weren’t included in a comprehensive listing of Schmitt’s orchestral scores that was published by Durand in 1961, nor do the parts appear to be available from Universal/Durand today.

Alain Raës

However, in my research I have discovered that the Fleisher Collection in the United States possesses the instrumental parts for the Stèle movement in its Philadelphia archives.  As those parts are available for study, here’s hoping that several enterprising conductors will see to it to investigate the music and bring it to glorious life in the present day; perhaps Schmitt evangelists Leon Botstein, JoAnn Falletta, Fabien Gabel or Jacques Mercier might be so inclined.

Jawher Matmati

Unfortunately, I can find no trace at all of Schmitt’s orchestration of the Branle de sortie movement. However, things have been set right on that score by the young Tunisian composer, arranger and orchestrator Jawher Matmati.  Matmati is also part of group of music specialists who are heavily involved in the Durand Typography Project — a transnational initiative spearheaded by orchestrator Michael Feingold that also includes music engravers Matthew Maslanka and Wesselin Christoph Karaatanassov on the work team.

Related to his current studies and participation in Anthony Girard‘s senior orchestration class at the Paris Conservatoire, Jawher Matmati has just completed preparing an orchestral version of Branle de sortie as part of his Orchestration Lab work this year.

As Matmati tells it, “I find the music for this suite to be sublime, and I’ve always regretted that the score has been so cruelly ignored.  The harmonic language in this piece is very, very special.”

He goes on to say, “The second theme in the movement is THE reason I chose to orchestrate the piece.”  Considering the almost-addictive qualities of that theme, I can easily see how  Mr. Matmati could be so completely smitten by it.

The first page of the score to the Matmati orchestration of the Branle de sortie movement from Chaîne brisée.

Recording the Matmati orchestration of Florent Schmitt’s Branle de sortie movement from Chaîne brisée, with the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra under the direction of Pieter-Jelle de Boer (June 2021).

On June 1, 2021, Pieter-Jelle de Boer and the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra recorded Matmati’s orchestral arrangement.  Seeing as how Florent Schmitt’s own arrangement of the music appears to be lost, it is gratifying to know that we now have an alternative version as the “next-best thing.”  Even though it is non-commercial audio documentation, here’s hoping that the new recording will soon be made available for music-lovers everywhere to hear.

Students of composition at the Paris Conservatoire, pictured with Austrian composer and guest lecturer Clemens Gadenstätter (May 2021). Jawher Matmati is standing next to the composer (fourth from right).

Florent Schmitt receives the first copy of the premiere recording of his Psaume XLVII from conductor Georges Tzipine and Pathé-Marconi chairman Pierre Bourgeois (standing at far right). On Schmitt’s left is fellow-composer Arthur Honegger. (February 1953 photo, courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

Recently, several photos were uploaded to Twitter that had been taken at a social event in Paris celebrating the release of the first-ever commercial recording of Florent Schmitt’s stunning choral composition Psaume XLVII.  Held in February 1953 at Pathé-Marconi headquarters, the release event was attended by tout Paris – at least in terms of the classical music personalities of the day.

Pierre Bourgeois (1904-1976)

The photographs came from the private archives of Pierre Bourgeois, a French business, music and media industry personality who served as chairman of Pathé-Marconi, the French subsidiary of EMI, during the 1950s.  Bourgeois was appointed to the position at the remarkably young age of 45 — yet he had already built up years of experience in the music industry as an artistic director at Polydor Records, and before that as an advertising and promotions specialist working for American businessman Jay Frank Gould’s ad agency in France.

Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois

It turns out that the photos had been uploaded by Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois, Pierre’s grandson who is himself involved in the world of media even though his professional background is in the  field of information technology.  These days, in addition to authoring a number of books and articles about the music industry, he is focusing his energies on a number of initiatives pertaining to Pathé-Marconi’s history including a documentary, a book, a play and a TV series.

After I had left an “up-vote” on his Twitter post, Mr. Jourquin-Bourgeois got in touch with me to explain the context of the photos, thereby revealing the connection to his grandfather’s highly interesting life and career.  Indeed, Pierre Bourgeois was a consequential leader in the media, music and arts industries in France beginning in the 1930s and continuing all the way until his death in 1976.

Predestined for a career the arts business? Pierre Bourgeois was born in an apartment on the Boulevard de Rochechouart in Paris, located in the 18th Arrondissement just up the street from iconic music halls such as Le Trianon and Élysée Montmartre.

Born in Paris in 1904, Bourgeois trained for a career in business, with his first position (at the age of 20) being in advertising, where he soon made a name for himself as a master of promotion and harnessing the powers of creativity to gain the attention of the consumers.  His move into the music industry began in 1930 when he acquired an ownership stake in Legard & Taupin, a French manufacturer of 78-rpm shellac records.

This Polydor Records logo was used until 1949.

Then in 1934 at just 30 years of age, he was named artistic director of Polydor Records, shortly thereafter beginning what would turn out to be a decades-long professional relationship with the great chanteuse Édith Piaf.

With Maria Callas at a reception organized in her honor by Pierre Bourgeois at La Tour d’Argent restaurant in Paris (February 1957). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois.)

As it would do to so many  individuals, the onset of World War II interrupted Pierre Bourgeois’ career trajectory.  But when peace returned in 1945, he took over commercial direction of the music publishing house Le Chant du Monde.

The following year he was appointed commercial director at Pathé-Marconi, and three years later was named the company’s chairman, in charge of steering the ship of its varied business operations that would soon include manufacturing television sets in addition to radios, turntables, and audio recordings.

Over the coming decade, the list of Pathé-Marconi accomplishments under the aegis of Pierre Bourgeois was impressive. Some of the key ones included:

• Developing sound and light shows illuminating the most treasured monuments of French heritage (Chambord, Versailles, Vincennes, Chantilly, etc.)

• Successfully lobbying for the reduction of production taxes on LP recordings by 50%, thereby making them financially accessible to many more consumers.

• Forging cultural exchanges with the governments of the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China that would bring, among others, the Peking Opera, Red Army Chorus, Bolshoi Ballet plus classical music superstars like Mstislav Rostropovich, Emil Gilels, Leonid Kogan and David Oistrakh to France and Europe.

• Developing and managing the in-country French careers of leading musical artists in both classical and popular music – luminaries such as Frank Sinatra, Édith Piaf, Charles Trenet, Franck Pourcel, Maurice Chevalier, Yves Montand, Herbert von Karajan, Henryk Szeryng, Boris Christoff, Maria Callas, Witold Małcużyński, Artur Rubinstein, Yehudi Menuhin and André Cluytens, to name just some of the best-known.

Following his dozen-year tenure with Pathé-Marconi that came to an end in 1959, Pierre Bourgeois embarked on an equally impressive “second act” of his career which, among other ventures, included establishing the NADIF production and distribution company for recordings and films, as well as serving as a managing director for London’s Incorporated Television Company (ITC Entertainment Group) in the French-speaking countries.

Pierre Bourgeois greets German conductor Herbert von Karajan and his wife, Anna-Maria Sauest, at Orly Airport in Paris (June 1952). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

With far too many additional initiatives to list here, this French Wikipedia article provides a more complete accounting of Bourgeois’ busy activities during the final 15 years of his life (he died in 1976).

After reading about this man’s many career accomplishments, I was keenly interested to hear the observations of a member of Pierre Bourgeois’ own family so as to gain a greater understanding of him as an individual.  Asking his grandson Emmanuel to provide those aspects seemed the perfect opportunity — and he was kind enough to agree to an interview.  Highlights of our very interesting discussion are presented below.  (Note: Mr. Jourquin-Bourgeois’ remarks have been translated from French into English.)

PLN:  Your grandfather Pierre Bourgeois led a noteworthy life in business and in the arts.  What drew him to these two worlds, and to what do you attribute his success in engaging in both of them so successfully?

EJ-B:  I would say that his taste for the arts was passed on to him by his father, the journalist Henri Bourgeois, who from a very early age had exposed his son to the theatre and to musical performances.

Frank Jay Gould (1877-1956)

As for his attraction to the business world, that undoubtedly came from Frank Jay Gould, the American multi-millionaire hotelier who also owned a large advertising group in the 1920s in France — and with whom my grandfather worked for several years.  In 1929 Mr. Gould, who had just acquired the Palais de la Méditerranée in Nice on the French Riviera, entrusted him with the creation of the menus for the inaugural events celebrating the new era at the property.   

Going out in style: The mausoleum of Frank Jay Gould (Woodlawn Cemetery, Bronx, New York).

Clever as well as creative, my grandfather had the idea to produce these special-occasion menus and print them on colored 78-rpm discs.  This was something completely unheard of, and it revealed his twin passions for the business world and for the music industry.

From there, his winsome personality and his penchant for industriousness did the rest.

PLN:  Did Pierre Bourgeois have any formal training in classical music or literature in addition to his business studies?

EJ-B:  Actually, no.  His studied business and prepared for higher-level studies, but then began working in the business profession as soon as he could, out of a desire for independence.

PLN:  Pierre Bourgeois was named chairman of Pathé-Marconi at a surprisingly young age — just 45 years.  Yet he was already very accomplished by then, having been an artistic director at Polydor Records from the age of 30.  Clearly he had a natural talent for the music business.  What made him such a success so early in his career?

A Pathé-Marconi advertising poster (circa 1950).

EJ-B:  His success was in adhering to the same principles in the music industry as he had done in advertising.  It included a combination of inventiveness, hard work, implementation of promotional tools (it was not yet called “marketing”), managerial acumen, natural leadership capabilities, and a “can-do” attitude.  

He also had an affinity for building and maintaining relationships with work colleagues and artists.  Importantly, he demonstrated utmost discretion in those relationships, which surely must have been appreciated by the artists and his peers.

PLN:  Pierre Bourgeois forged working relationships with musicians as diverse as Édith Piaf, Yves Montand and Charles Trenet in the word of pop, along with many classical artists such as Marcel Dupré, André Cluytens, Arthur Rubinstein and Igor Markevitch.  What enabled him to work so well with such diverse talents and personalities?

A Pathé-Marconi brochure cover for its radio/record player models, dating from the late 1950s during Pierre Bourgeois’ tenure as chairman of the company.

EJ-B:  Following World War II, Pathé-Marconi was in a dominant position in the European music industry. Consequently, many of the great artists of the period recorded with the various labels of the group [Columbia, Voix de son maitre, Parlophone, etc.].  It was only natural that my grandfather would form personal relationships with them because he was  simultaneously promoting their artistry and their careers. 

And what effective promotion it was; in those days Pathé-Marconi was selling more than 15 million records per year!  Among the landmark successes of my grandfather in those times was Édith Piaf’s celebrated appearances at Carnegie Hall in 1956-57.

PLN:  What can you tell us about Pierre Bourgeois’ relationship with Florent Schmitt?  When did they first meet one another, and what were some of the highlights of their relationship and professional collaboration?

Composer Florent Schmitt and conductor Georges Tzipine confer at an event celebrating the release of the premiere recording of Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII. Tzipine was the conductor of the musical forces. (February 1953)

EJ-B:  Perhaps the biggest highlight of my grandfather’s professional collaboration with Florent Schmitt was in producing the first recording of Psaume XLVII, released in 1953 by Columbia Records in France and by Angel records in its English-language edition.  But the two men had known each other since the 1930s and had worked together several times before then — and later on as well. 

To my grandfather, Florent Schmitt represented the great senior generation of French artists, and he had great regard for him as a man and as a composer.

Of course, this was at a time when such friendships that flourished were above all a sign of respect and discretion; simply the fact that they considered each other friends was sufficient in itself, and I think the respect was mutual. 

PLN:  With which other musicians did Pierre Bourgeois have particularly close relationships?

Composer Florent Schmitt with pianist Marguerite Long (February 1953). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

EJ-B:  He was a devoted friend of the famous pianist Marguerite Long, for whom he had great affection and with whom he worked for a long time — both professionally and personally.  He employed all of his industry connections in an attempt organize a farewell tour to New York for her — a project that unfortunately could not be realized due to the declining health of the pianist. 

But I can also cite Maria Callas, who came to visit my grandfather on each of her private trips to France, as well as the operatic bass singer Boris Christoff and the conductor Herbert von Karajan. 

Florent Schmitt converses with Bulgarian operatic bass Boris Christoff at a social event at Pathé-Marconi’s Studio Magellan in Paris (March 1953). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

Beyond classical artists there were also Charles Trenet, Yves Montand, Édith Piaf of course, and also Gilbert Bécaud, whom my grandfather loved very much and whose career he launched.   

Indeed, it is impossible to give a complete list, as Pierre Bourgeois had so many artist friends!

PLN:  During his years in the music industry, Pierre Bourgeois lent his leadership talents to a number of prominent  organizations.  He served on the committees of various international music competitions and also was a life member of the executive committee of the important organization Jeunesses musicales de France.  What inspired him to engage in these activities above and beyond his work responsibilities?

EJ-B:  This is a very interesting aspect of his personality. And the clear reason is because of his humanity. 

Throughout his entire life and career, my grandfather sought to help others.  From the most modest person to the most famous, he did so without favor or distinction. At times he could have as many as ten commitments concurrently involving organizations serving business, music and television, in addition to his primary work. 

Florent Schmitt greets Brigitte Moral, stepdaughter of Pathé-Marconi chairman Pierre Bourgeois (center) at a 1956 social event at the Pavillon de l’Élysée in Paris honoring the French pianist Samson François, who is pictured at far right. (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

The most astonishing thing is that he carried out all of these commitments with completely conviction — and with humility.

PLN:  Several times during his career, Pierre Bourgeois was asked to join the French government in various roles, but he always declined.  Why is that?

Pierre Bourgeois, photographed in April 1953 with French writer Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, one year before her death. (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

PJ-B:  I think one reason had to do with the role of Pathé-Marconi in French industry and culture during the post-war period, for which my grandfather was one of its most committed ambassadors.  The economic power of the company was such that he was at the origin of the promulgation of decrees in favor of copyrights and for the reduction of production taxes on recordings, which he considered important in terms of making records economically accessible to all. 

Vincent Auriol (1884-1966) was President of France between 1947 and 1954.

So in that sense, throughout his career he was in close contact with the various government ministers whose activities involved him, and those relationships and influence with the public authorities were important.  It was important to get along with everyone, and to that end he maintained friendly personal relations with Vincent Auriol, President of the Republic, and then with his successor, René Coty.

At the same time, it is true that he declined an offer to become the Minister of Industry and Trade under Auriol. 

Émile Meyerson (1859-1933)

But I think there’s an additional reason as well — and it has to do with his experiences during the war years. Before marrying my grandmother Juliette, he had been married for nine years to a Jewish woman named Jeanne Brauman, who was the niece of the Polish-born philosopher Émile Meyerson, a specialist in epistemology.  Widowed in 1937, he was later put at some risk at the hands of the Gestapo, and he had also hidden the papers of Meyerson, which today are housed at the Zionist Central Archives in Jerusalem. 

Pierre Bourgeois with Édith Piaf at Chez Laurent restaurant in Paris (September 1957). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

In 1941, then serving as Édith Piaf’s artistic director at Polydor, the Vichy government obliged him by decree to join the Organizing Committee for Music, a state body which controlled what the Germans agreed to edit. Finding himself trapped, he found it difficult to resign the post as he wished do to, but finally was able to call on his connections to leave this committee two years later.   

I think these experiences caused him to mistrust governments in general, and he swore to stay away from explicitly political activity of all stripes.

PLN:  Before his career in the music industry began, Pierre Bourgeois was involved in the advertising field, and later on he led organizations in TV and movie production.  What were the most notable highlights of those “bookend” years of his career?

EJ-B:  When you’re at the top of the business ladder you cannot climb higher and sometimes you also become a target. Pathé-Marconi had achieved such independence from its British parent company EMI that my grandfather was dismissed in 1959 by the English-led senior management. So after having spent a dozen years at Pathé-Marconi, he set up a film and record production and distribution company called Nouvelle Agence de Diffusion (NADIF). At the same time he also became a managing director at ITC of London, in charge of its operations in French-speaking countries. 

Pierre Bourgeois presents an LP master disk and a baton to the conductor André Cluytens, standing at left. Looking on are composer Georges Auric and pianist Marguerite Long (Paris, October 1958). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

In this context, we can credit him for the co-production and television broadcasting of the series The Persuaders with Roger Moore and Tony Curtis, The Saint with Roger Moore, The Adventures of Robin Hood with Richard Greene, The Prisoner with Patrick McGoohan, and The Muppet Show created by Jim Henson.

I recall that Roger Moore came to have lunch with my grandparents in 1972 while promoting his show The Persuaders, known in France under the name Amicalement votre. 

PLN:  It’s my understanding that Pierre Bourgeois was the driving force behind the development of the iconic Pathé-Marconi Superbus which traveled all over France during the 1950s.  Can you tell us about that initiative and its public relations value to the company?

EJ-B:  Yes, that was his brainchild — and it emanates from his early experiences in advertising. My grandfather always wished to combine commercial performance, music, and corporate image. The Superbus, which at the time was also known as the Ambassador, accompanied the advertising caravan of the Tour de France cycling events from 1953 to 1959.  The gigantic Panhard-brand truck was equipped with a top-roof stage for the artists involved in the tour.   

The Pathé-Marconi Superbus on the road (1950s).

At each stopover city, the concerts of the Pathé-Marconi artists were broadcast live on Radio Europe 1 based on a contractual agreement between Louis Merlin, the president of Europe 1, and my grandfather. Édith Piaf was among the most famous of the stars who entertained there, but there were also many others. 

The restored Pathé-Marconi Superbus is on display at France’s largest motor vehicle museum.

I have written several articles about the Superbus that have been published.  Not only is it a subject that interests me greatly, it’s also very contemporary because the vehicle still exists!  It has been restored, and is now part of the collection of vehicles at the Cité de l’Automobile in Mulhouse, the largest automobile museum in France.

PLN:  Did you know your grandfather during his retirement years?  Are there any stories stories he told you about his life in business and in music?

EJ-B:  I have to say that my grandfather never really retired.  Indeed, this kind of character never stops!  Even just a few days before his death, he was preparing a broadcast on Antenne 2 (the French public service television channel today called France 2) of a TV series called Thriller, which had met with great success in the UK. 

Soprano Denise Duval (far left) receives an advance copy of her performance of Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII from Pathé-Marconi chairman Pierre Bourgeois at an event celebrating the release of the premiere recording of the music (Paris, February 1953). (Photo courtesy of Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois)

As for me personally, I did not have the opportunity to talk with him about his professional activities; when he died in 1976, I was only ten years old.  But a few memories of him are still vivid, such as the scent of his cologne when I would throw myself into his arms when I went with my parents to see him at his home near Fontainebleau.  

But unfortunately it’s too few things — and you know, the first thing that disappears from the memory is the sound of someone’s voice.  But fortunately, I have recordings of him in my possession, so that memory can be preserved.

PLN:  Pierre Bourgeois died at the relatively young age of 72, but to my mind he packed two lifetimes of experiences into one!  Looking back on his accomplishments, how should he best be remembered?

EJ-B:  For several things, I think.  He was a great chairman of Pathé-Marconi, a key figure in the world of industry, and an ambassador of French culture to the world by virtue of discovering talent, nurturing it and bringing it to its highest level.

And going the other direction, it was he who introduced France to the splendors of the Peking Opera, the Red Army Chorus, the Bolshoi Ballet and more.  

He was also the man behind developing the first Sound and Light Shows which showcased the most beautiful monuments of French architectural heritage beginning in 1952.

Florent Schmitt, seated at far right, at an event honoring the composer Arthur Honegger (standing at left) on the occasion of Honegger receiving the diploma of Grand Officer of the Légion d’honneur. The reception was organized by Pierre Bourgeoise, chairman of Pathé-Marconi, and was held at the Cercle Interallié in Paris in December 1954.

PLN:  You have written a number of articles about your grandfather and the life he led, and I understand that you are currently preparing a more extensive biography.  What interesting new aspects about his life have you learned in the process of researching the material for this new book?

EJ-B:  By paying him the tribute that he so richly deserves, I also wish to underscore the extraordinary times in which he lived. The post-war period was truly an era of invention and daring — and Pierre Bourgeois was absolutely in the middle of it all. 

Beyond the book, I have also been working on plans for a television series about him and have spoken with a few people already regarding this project.  The ultimate goal is to produce a feature film in which he would be the common thread in the era ranging from the 1910s to the 1970s.  It’s quite amazing when you consider that Pierre Bourgeois met Albert Einstein, Mme. Marie Curie, Zhou en Lai, Queen Elizabeth II and so many other luminaries — along with the fascinating characters who mattered most in the the arts world during those times.   

And all of this occurred within a specific framework:  music.  There is so much to highlight, and so mush of it is so highly interesting. 

PLN:   Pierre Bourgeois’ gravestone carries this message from Proverbs chapter 19, verse 22:  “What makes a man charming is his goodness.”  To me, this seems like a very fitting epitaph …

The gravesite of Pierre Bourgeois (Cimetière de Samois-sur-Seine)

EJ-B:  Yes, that epitaph describes him 100 percent.  Behind the important responsibilities he executed so effectively throughout his life and career, it is his generosity and benevolence that stand out most prominently.  So that saying sums up the man well. 

________________

Emmanuel Jourquin-Bourgeois is clearly very proud of his grandfather — and justly so.  Few individuals accomplish so much in one lifetime.  Hopefully his book and film about Pierre Bourgeois will become a reality before long, so that the world can better understand the consequential life and legacy of this leader in business and the arts.

Considering the actions and motivations of Florent Schmitt during the 1930s and World War II.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in the early 1940s.

Regular readers of the Florent Schmitt Website + Blog know that the primary focus of the site’s content is on the composer’s remarkable musical legacy.  For a person whose creative career spanned more than seven decades during the time of greatest innovation in classical music — and whose own catalogue consists of some 138 opus numbers plus a variety of additional items — there is more than enough material to focus on the music alone.

But as with many musicians whose lives were lived within the context of the 20th century’s momentous socio-political “innovations” that often had catastrophic results for the societies and individuals caught up in all the the experimentation, Florent Schmitt was not immune to the events of the day — nor to the consequences of the choices that he made in the process.

The situation for French musicians during the 1930s and 1940s makes for particularly interesting study.  History teaches us that France was woefully ill-prepared to fight a second major war barely two decades after enduring the massive bloodshed of the First World War.  Entire sections of northern France were rendered a wasteland during that four-year conflict, and the years that followed were marked by wild pendulum swings in policy as various French governments sought ways to prevent a reoccurrence of such trauma.

Ardent French nationalists found themselves on differing sides of these debates — some warning against a rearmed and increasingly belligerent Germany, while others saw in Germany a natural bulwark against the menace of Stalin’s brand of “Godless communism” and his murderous regime.  (One mustn’t discount the impact that legions of White Russian emigrés who populated Paris in those days had on public perceptions of the Soviet Union.)

Henri-Philippe Petain (1856-1951)

The irony that Marshall Philippe Pétain, the “Hero of Verdun,” would end up as prime minister of the Vichy puppet regime following the defeat of France in 1940 underscores the topsy-turvy nature of the times.  While the formation of the Vichy government preserved a “rump” country consisting of a little less than half of France (plus the colonial territories), it also meant a humiliatingly servile existence that was wholly dependent on the “benevolence” of the tyrannical Nazi German regime that was occupying of the remainder of the French mainland including Paris.  In such circumstances, any and all directives “handed down from high” of necessity had to be carried out.  Nothing was unaffected — including the arts.

For French musicians it was a time of testing — and of choosing one reality over another.  For some the decision was easy — particularly those whose very lives were in danger because of their racial/ethnic background or political persuasions: leave the country for safer havens.  For those not in personal danger, it was a question of how to continue living their lives and practicing their craft while navigating the minefields of continually shifting mandates and diktats.  Indeed, for everyone in a world turned upside down it was the challenge of figuring out how to navigate the rapids and make it to the other side.

It is often stated that history is written by the victors. While this may be true, the reality is sometimes more murky. When it came to the arts, for several decades following World War II France seemed to practice a kind of “collective amnesia” — studiously avoiding the topic of individual and collective behavior during the war years. This would change dramatically with the publication of several books, particularly the volumes La Vie musicale sous Vichy by Myriam Chimènes (2001) and Composer sous Vichy by Yannick Simon (2009).

If anything, those volumes went to the opposite end of the scale with agenda-driven narratives that sought to paint an entire generation of French musicians with the “Vichy brush.”  The list of prominent composers and other musicians coming in for particular opprobrium in these books is more than long; just a sampling of the best-known names includes Louis Aubert, Tony Aubin, Henry Barraud, Eugène Bigot, Emmanuel Bondeville, Joseph Canteloube, Alfred Cortot, Claire Croiza, Maurice Delage, Marcel Delannoy, Marcel Dupré, Maurice Duruflé, Henri Dutilleux, Jane Evrard, Paul Le Flem, Jean Fournet, Arthur Honegger, Raymond Loucheur, Jean Martinon, Olivier Messiaen, Charles Munch, Max d’Ollone, Francis Poulenc, Gaston Poulet, Henri Rabaud, Gustave Samazeuilh … and Florent Schmitt as well.

Kurt Weill (1900-1950)

For Schmitt in particular, it was almost too easy to conflate his alleged support of the Vichy France regime with remarks that he had made years earlier, during a November 1933 concert of Kurt Weill’s music following that composer’s move to Paris in the wake of Adolf Hitler coming to power in Germany the previous March.  In those times Weill was as notorious for his leftist political agitation as he was for the “music-hall sarcasm” and cheekiness of his creative output — both of which were controversial.  There’s no question that Schmitt’s wisecrack (“Vive Hitler — France already has too many bad Jewish composers — why do we have to import them from Germany now?”) was insensitive and mean-spirited. On the other hand, the remark was not out of character for someone who was known for making “in your face” caustic comments.

The incident was reported by the Parisian press, which viewed the remarks as uncharitable and completely uncalled for — although Weill himself dismissed the incident as “that silly Florent Schmitt affair.” Without excusing in any way the comment at the Weill concert, we can find numerous instances of strong words making their way into Schmitt’s writings as a music critic, dating all the way back to the 1913 premiere of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps, which Schmitt wrote about in the pages of the newspaper La France:

Florent Schmitt’s report on Le Sacre, published in the June 4, 1913 issue of the newspaper La France.

“Igor Stravinsky’s genius could not have received a more striking confirmation than the incomprehension of the crowd and its vicious hostility. This group of what is called ‘worldly people’ — the world of Doctor Moreau, unable to see, hear and feel for themselves — these overgrown children who are overcome with gravity at the beastly and academic clownings of low boulevard theatre, could find nothing but brutal infantile laughter at these splendors, so immeasurably distant from their own weak understanding. 

Bringing everything down to their own mediocre, vain level, they will not admit — they cannot tolerate — that an artist should be creative without being concerned for them … With an implacable and infallible logic, human stupidity never loses its rights.”

In another example of Schmitt’s sharp tongue, there is his remark to the composer Darius Milhaud in the hallway of the Paris Opéra during intermission at the 1932 premiere of Milhaud’s roundly panned opera, Maximilien.

“Are you staying?”, Schmitt reportedly quipped.

Regarding these and other incidences, the words of Catherine Lorent, author of a 2012 biography of Florent Schmitt, certainly ring true:

“A man with a caustic spirit, this is a composer who will use humor throughout his life, becoming the source of multiple anecdotes that have caused much ink to flow — most often triggering laughter but sometimes arousing the angry voices of indignation.”

As for Schmitt’s activities following the defeat of France on the battlefield in World War II, the composer was two months shy of 70 years old at the time of the fall of the country in 1940. In that context, the decision he made to stay rather than flee seemed to make sense at the time.  The prospects for the liberation of the country under the young, untested brigadier general Charles de Gaulle, then operating little more than a “press release government” out of a London that was itself under constant German bombardment, seemed fanciful at best.

Florent Schmitt’s country retreat in Artiguemy, Haute-Pyrenées.

In addition to his home in St-Cloud (suburban Paris), Schmitt had the refuge of his country retreat at Artiguemy in the Haute-Pyrenées, which is where he elected to stay almost exclusively in the first two years following the fall of Paris.  One source of happiness for the composer at Artiguemy was the presence of his grandson, Paul (Schmitt’s own son Jean had become a prisoner of the Germans and would return only at the end of the war).  Even after Schmitt resumed traveling to Paris, those trips were undertaken mainly to attend concerts of his music.

Never flagging in his interest to promote the cause of French contemporary music, Schmitt also served as an honorary member of the music section committee of Groupe Collaboration, organized by the Vichy government and under which concerts were run and recordings made on the Action Artistique label for broadcast over French national radio. Max d’Ollone chaired the committee while Schmitt and a fellow composer, Alfred Bachelet, were named honorary co-chairs (although there is no evidence that Schmitt attended any official meetings of the committee).

A 1941 postage stamp issued by the Third Reich commemorating the 150th anniversary of the death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

More damning in the eyes of some observers of history was Schmitt’s acceptance of an invitation to be part of the French delegation that traveled to Vienna in 1941 for events surrounding the 150th anniversary of the death of Mozart.  Sixteen other nations sent official delegations as well, and the large French delegation included dignitaries such as the composer Arthur Honegger.  The weeklong festivities, ending on December 5, 1941, turned into a major propaganda coup for Joseph Goebbels, the Third Reich’s so-called “minister of public enlightenment.”

Following the liberation of Paris in late summer 1944, Florent Schmitt was investigated by the Comité National d’Epuration (National Purification Committee) which, under the recently reenacted Indignité nationale (national unworthiness) provisions was charged with determining the extent to which artists, musicians and writers had collaborated with the Vichy regime.  The complete file of documents pertaining to the investigation of Schmitt is housed today at the French National Archives.

Florent Schmitt’s testimony was taken at his home in St-Cloud on November 24, 1944.  Regarding his connection with the music section of Groupe Collaboration, the composer acknowledged his involvement while contending that he did not see it as having any particular political goals.  It was his objective only to defend the interests of French contemporary music and musicians, he maintained, adding that he “never worked with the Germans nor derived any profit from them.”

The first page of Florent Schmitt’s deposition given on November 24, 1944.

Asked why he had never resigned from the committee, Schmitt replied that he had attached “very little importance” to his membership, noting that it had been an honorary position and hadn’t entailed any meetings or committee work on his part other than attending concerts.

When questioned about other “official” activities before and during the war years, Schmitt maintained that his actions had been driven by his love for the arts and the promulgation of French contemporary music, not by political motivations.  “Music, pure and simple!” he had always maintained.  He stated that his involvement with the so-called France-Germany Group beginning in 1937 had occurred for similar reasons and that he had registered with the group at the request of Albert Lebrun, then-president of France, thinking it wise to promulgate good relations between the two countries based on a mutual admiration for classical music.

Schmitt further explained that his participation in the 1941 Mozart Anniversary delegation to Vienna was undertaken in part in the hope — naïve as it turned out — that he might be permitted to visit his only child, who had been captured during the invasion of France and who was being held as a forced-labor prisoner in Germany.  (Predictably, German officials rejected Schmitt’s request.)

As a result of the Comité National d’Epuration investigation, in 1945 a one-year suspension of performing or broadcasting Florent Schmitt’s music in France was imposed, retroactive to the year before, essentially resulting in little substantive negative consequences for the composer (although the one-year suspension also applied to collecting royalties from the sale of his music as well as writings for publication in newspapers or periodicals).

Florent Schmitt’s letter of contrition to the French government, dated December 18, 1945.

Despite the minor material consequences of the ruling, there is no question that Schmitt’s previously vaunted reputation in France suffered a significant blow as a result of his conduct during the war years.  Undeterred by this setback, he continued to compose, bringing forth more than two dozen new works during the final decade of his life — several of which are acknowledged today as among the most significant masterpieces in the Schmitt catalogue.

As further evidence of his professional rehabilitation, the composer was named a Commander of the Légion d’honneur in 1952 and in 1957, a year before his death, he was awarded the Music Prize of the City of Paris.

Moreover, throughout the 1950s live performances of Schmitt’s music were a ubiquitous presence on French Radio broadcasts, performed by the leading French conductors, orchestras and instrumentalists of the day.

Florent Schmitt’s Grand Prize for Music from the City of Paris was front-page news in La Figaro Littéraire‘s May 11, 1957 issue. (Photo: Rene Pari)

Lycée Florent Schmitt in St-Cloud, France, now named for Alexandre Dumas.

But as a famously “independent” composer who was associated with no particular school, in the years following his death in 1958 it became difficult for his reputation to withstand the criticism of detractors — not least the removal of his name from the high school of St-Cloud after a contentious, nearly decade-long battle pitting students, teachers, administrators and alumni against one another.

The relentless and withering criticism of Florent Schmitt has reduced his persona to the level of caricature — presenting him as a one-dimensional figure that utterly fails to account for his complexities, the genius of his artistic legacy, or his substantial efforts over many decades to assist fellow musicians and the cause of French music itself.  As the composer Alain Margoni, who as a young musician worked closely with Schmitt in the late 1950s, has observed:

“Florent Schmitt’s contributions to French music are huge — but up until recently, quite unknown to many people. But upon closer investigation, one can easily see how important he is by looking at the music of other composers and how he is reflected in their own output. 

Florent Schmitt has been falsely accused by some people of having Nazi sympathies. His alleged collaboration with the enemy became a way to attempt to ransack the composer’s reputation and his career accomplishments following his death. Indeed, one could say that Schmitt was secretly “excommunicated” — not through direct evidence, but by cowardly and clandestine whispers and innuendo. I consider those actions to be absolutely unjustifiable — and indeed immoral.”

So what is the sum of things?  In my view, any true appraisal of Florent Schmitt’s role and activities during the 1930s and 1940s must take a balanced approach instead of starting from a predetermined point-of-view.  If done so, the evidence reveals a person who was sometimes too quick with the throwaway remark, and an artist who during wartime made a number of poor judgments — even when there may have been no clearly good options from which to choose.

At the same time, it would be wrong to conclude that he was a person who harbored a political agenda, or who was advancing a particular polemical or socio-political cause.  Nowhere do we find “political” imputations in Schmitt’s music; unlike some other 20th century composers’ music, his stubbornly resists any such pigeonholing.  Indeed, in Schmitt’s choice of texts in his voluminous vocal compositions we find the presence of numerous leftist-radical poets (Robert Ganzo, Charles Sanglier (Charles Vallet), Laurent Tailhade, Charles Vildrac, etc.). Far from the extreme rightwing caricature some would like to portray, the evidence points instead to Schmitt’s diverse range of artistic inspiration and output.

A further point is that Florent Schmitt signed petitions during World War II in favor of a number of Jewish musicians when they found themselves under suspicion and in personal danger — including those for the soprano Madeleine Grey, composer Fernand Ochsey and pianist François Lang.  All were friends of Schmitt and he wished to use whatever influence he had with the authorities to help their cause.  It may be a small data point, but signing petitions in aid of Jewish musicians is significant nonetheless.

To my mind, the evidence writ large reveals that Florent Schmitt’s persona was every bit as complex and convoluted as the 20th century’s own experimentation with socio-political “innovations” — and equally untidy.  But for the loud voices of those who aggressively push a particular POV about Schmitt’s purported “Nazi sympathies,” the attempt to overlay that on the artistic output of the composer is ultimately a fruitless endeavor.  As the American conductor JoAnn Falletta has stated, “The music — if it’s good — wins out in the end.”

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847)

It isn’t uncommon for classical composers to create alternate versions of their musical creations.  Many have prepared piano reductions of their orchestral works, or done the opposite by orchestrating pieces originally written for piano.

Édouard Lalo (1823-1892)

We also have numerous examples of pieces that began life as chamber music that were later orchestrated by their creators; the middle movements from Felix Mendelssohn’s Octet in E-Flat Major, Op. 20 (1825) and Édouard Lalo’s Piano Trio No. 3 in A Minor, Op. 26 (1880) are representative examples of those.

But it would seem that French composer Florent Schmitt was more active than most other composers, as a surprisingly large portion of his 138 opus-numbered works exists in orchestral garb in addition to piano or chamber renditions.  Indeed, there are dozens of examples.

Schmitt was also known to “borrow” particularly memorable themes from some of his works and incorporate them into other compositions — although he did this far less frequently.  In my investigation of the Schmitt catalogue, several examples stand out in particular.

Visual and aural attraction: Much of Florent Schmitt’s score for Ombres (1912-17) is written on three staves.

Schmitt’s suite for piano Ombres, Op. 64, which was composed between 1912 and 1917, is a monument of French pianism of the early 20th century.  In terms of both its complexity and its artistic import it has been compared to Ravel’s Gaspard de la nuit — and deservedly so.

The middle movement of the set – Mauresque – is the shortest of the three numbers, and the one where the music’s inherent drama is a bit more understated. The second major theme in this movement is particularly winsome – so much so that the composer decided to include this theme in the fanfare movement of his two Antoine et Cléopâtre Suites, Op. 69.  These suites began life as incidental music to André Gide’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s eponymous play, mounted on the Paris Opéra stage in 1920 by dancer and dramatic actress Ida Rubinstein.

The program booklet for the Gide/Rubinstein production of Antony & Cleopatra (Paris, 1920).

Ida Rubinstein as Cleopatra in the Gide/Paris Opéra production (1920).

The Gide/Rubinstein stage production lasted all of five performances, but Schmitt extracted two suites from the music he had written for presenting in between the acts of the play.  In the fanfare movement of the first suite, titled Le Camp de Pompée, we hear a direct quotation of the second theme in the Mauresque movement of Ombres, written five years earlier.

In this YouTube upload that also displays the score, you can see and hear this piano passage beginning at minute marker 14:40, marked as “un peu plus lent en commencement.”  The 18 measures that follow present the identical theme used in the Antony & Cleopatra Suite No. 1, which you can also see and hear for comparison purposes in this YouTube upload of both suites beginning at minute marker 12:20 where the score is marked “mystérieux.”

It is a testament to Schmitt’s genius that the same theme that sounds so amiable in the Ombres suite comes across as actually quite sinister in the Antony & Cleopatra score — but it’s all of apiece with Schmitt’s considerable talents as a composer and orchestrator.

Salammbô (Artwork by Georges-Antoine Rochegrosse, 1886.)

Five years later, Florent Schmitt was asked to create music for the silent film Salammbô, a two-hour epic produced by Pierre Marodon that aimed to present the major scenes from Gustave Flaubert’s novel of the same name.  The extremely tight timeframe within which Schmitt was required to prepare and deliver the music score necessitated recycling some material from several other “orientalist” works that he had composed earlier.

As with Antony & Cleopatra, the film production was deemed a failure — soon disappearing from theatres and revived just one time since (more than 65 years later).

The cover of the 98-page program book that was published in conjunction with the restoration of the Salammbô motion picture in 1991, and its presentation with live orchestra featuring the music of Florent Schmitt.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Salammbô suites, published by Durand in 1925.

Among the criticisms of the film was the overacting of the leading stars which was considered borderline-histrionic.  (In notable understatement, Schmitt himself described the manner in which the film presented Flaubert’s storyline as “rather incoherent.”)

The music itself was praised, however, and Schmitt soon prepared three orchestral suites (one with chorus) out of the “new” material he had created for the film (Salammbô, Op. 75) …

… with one exception.  A theme that Schmitt had borrowed from an earlier composition was incorporated into the third suite – in this case taken from a piece for wind ensemble composed by Schmitt during World War I titled Marche du 163e régiment d’infanterie, Op. 48, No. 2.

The first page of Florent Schmitt’s transcription of his Marche du 163e régiment d’infanterie for piano duo, published by Durand in 1918.

Schmitt’s wind band score for the 163^rd Infantry March, which he composed in 19156-16 while garrisoned at Toul in eastern France, has been lost, but a version he also prepared for piano duo was published by Durand in 1918.

In the 1925 Salammbô Suite No. 3, the middle theme from the March appears in symphonic garb in the section of the score titled Cortège d’Hamilcar, which you can see and hear beginning at minute marker 46:00 in this YouTube upload of the entire set of three suites.  A side-by-side comparison with the March (the duo-piano version published in 1918), beginning at minute marker 2:10 in this YouTube upload, reveals that the borrowed theme is  presented with no alteration.

Désiré Dondeyne (1921-2015)

[In recent decades, a replacement version of the March was prepared by the French wind ensemble specialist and conductor Désiré Dondeyne, which can be heard on this YouTube upload.  While not Schmitt’s own orchestration, it is interesting to compare the Dondeyne arrangement with the surviving version we have by Schmitt which was scored for symphony orchestra; the passage begins at approximately minute marker 2:30.]

A third example of borrowed themes in Schmitt’s music brings us to the late 1930s – and in this particular case he included the same theme in two compositions he was preparing simultaneously.

Chaîne brisée, Op. 87 is a piano suite composed in 1935-36 in which the third movement (Branle de sortie) contains an irresistibly lush and velvety passage.  You can listen to the theme beginning at minute marker 11:00 in this YouTube upload of the music, while also viewing the score.

At the same time that he was composing Chaîne brisée, Schmitt was also hard at work on a commission from the organizing committee of the International Exposition of Art and Technology in Modern Life (Paris Expo), which had engaged 18 Parisian composers including Arthur Honegger, Jacques Ibert, Charles Koechlin, Olivier Messiaen, Darius Milhaud and others to create new works for the nightly fêtes de la lumières sound, water and light shows to be presented on the banks of the Seine River during the fair’s five-month duration (June-November 1937).

Florent Schmitt’s particular contribution to the fêtes de la lumières was a large-scale work – one of the longest compositions in the Schmitt catalogue – which was lavishly orchestrated for huge instrumental forces including ondes martenots along with several solo vocalists plus an eight-part mixed chorus.

The Festivals of Lights events at the 1937 Paris Exposition.

Schmitt’s Fête de la lumière, Op. 88 was presented more than any of the other featured compositions — and  fortunately for us the studio recording used in those presentations survives to this day.  You can hear the orchestrated theme from Chaîne brisée beginning at approximately minute marker 7:50 on this YouTube upload, including the ondes martenot doing the honors as the featured solo instrument.  It’s a magical moment in the score – and one that is repeated several times in the course of the work’s 30+ minute duration.

These are the most prominent examples that I’ve found of “borrowed themes,” but perhaps there are more that other listeners may have discovered within the extensive catalogue of Florent Schmitt’s compositions.  If you are aware of any, please share your information in the comment section below.

Florent Schmitt, photographed at the time of the premiere performance of the piano version of Scènes de la vie moyenne. (1953 photo: ©Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

During the latter years of Florent Schmitt’s long and illustrious career, the composer turned his creative talents increasingly toward music for scored small instrumental forces.  Among the notable achievements of this late creative period are the fascinating (and challenging) String Trio (1944) and String Quartet (1948), as well as a group of compositions that showcase other instruments such as the Quartet for Saxophones (1941), the Quartet for Flutes (1944), the Sextet for Clarinets (1953) and the Quartet for Trombones and Tuba (1946).

Each of these are worthy creations that have attracted their share of advocates over the years — most notably the Saxophone Quartet which is performed frequently all over the world.

Also during this later period, Schmitt devoted significant energies to creating a large corpus of vocal and choral pieces.  Many of these remain little-known today and are sorely in need of exploration.

As for orchestral music – arguably upon which Florent Schmitt’s reputation as a composer rests most firmly – such works weren’t the major emphasis of his creative output in his later years, although Schmitt did write three concertante pieces during this period.  These include his Introït, récit et congé for cello and orchestra (1948) as well as the Suite en quatre parties for flute (1954) and the Suite en trois parties for trumpet (1955).  The latter two were written originally with piano but were also orchestrated by the composer; all three works have been commercially recorded as well.

But the last purely orchestral piece that Florent Schmitt composed is a four-part suite titled Scènes de la vie moyenne, Op. 124, which was first performed by the Colonne Concerts Orchestra under the direction of Paul Paray in October 1950.

A vintage copy of the score to the piano version of Florent Schmitt’s Scènes de la vie moyenne, dedicated to the French pianist Lélia Gousseau.

The Suite, which lasts approximately 13 minutes in duration, bears one of Schmitt’s numerous titles that has a double-meaning.  The words can translate variably into English as “Scenes from Middle Age,” “Scenes from the Middle Ages,” or even “Scenes from the Middling Life.” Certainly, the names of the four individual movements do conjure up visions that seem to validate any of these possibilities of meaning for the suite’s title:

I.   La Marche au marché (Walking to Market)

II.  Anseatic Dance 

III. Castles in Spain

IV.  Saut périlleux du poulet (Somersaulting Chicken)

Moreover, the titles of the first and last movements employ the alliteration of the French language that the composer was so fond of employing – but which lose something of their cleverness in the English translation.

Taking a look at the orchestral manuscript for the Scènes reveals that Florent Schmitt had more to say about the Anseatic Dance title, adding the following subhead to the title: “Traduction libre: Danse de l’anse (du panier).” (“Free translation:  Dance of the Handle — from the Basket.”)

As for Castles in Spain, Schmitt further explains that title as follows: “La phase sentimentale … désir d’évasion — ou simple.” (“The desire for escape — or simplicity.”)

The first page manuscript to the orchestral version of the movement Castles in Spain.

Quintessentially “Schmittian,” these clever names were singled out in Le Monde music critic René Dumesnil’s praiseworthy review of the Scènes de la vie moyenne when the piece was premiered by  Maestro Paray and the Colonne Orchestra in 1950:

“If one considered just the titles of these four pieces forming a suite, you’d could guarantee that they were authored by Florent Schmitt – but more surely still, as soon as one listens to the first ten bars of the music.  If there is in Schmitt a persistent taste for verbal joking, likewise there are deeply musical lines in which one immediately discerns the mark of a master … who does not disdain laughter, but who also knows its virtues and employs it wisely.”

The first page of the orchestral manuscript to the final movement, Saut périlleux du poulet. Note the composer’s characteristically small, meticulous penmanship.

In his review, Dumesnil characterized the piece as a “playful symphony,” writing:

“The beginning allegro is La Marche au marché – a perky, joyful walk as Chabrier might have put it (and who would have also savored the orchestration, applauding the sparkling spirit and the cackling of the gossips lost in their chattering).  

Conductor of the 1950 premiere performance with the Colonne Concerts Orchestra: Paul Paray, who led more world premieres of Florent Schmitt’s orchestral works than any other conductor.

Then comes the rhythmically adventuresome Ancentick dance of the basket handle, followed by Castles in Spain – dreamy pages where the horns and flute sing deliciously whilst the Basque drum provides discreet accompaniment. 

The final Saut périlleux du poulet is full of perilous leaps for the musicians — who performed with all the acrobatic certainty and youthful suppleness the composer’s rhythmic skill bought to these sparkling and colorful pages.  

Paul Paray spotlighted the piece’s singular merits with marvelous intelligence and care …”

Lélia Gousseau (1909-1997), was a noted French pianist and pedagogue. A student of Lazare-Lévy at the Paris Conservatoire, she was a prizewinner at the 1937 International Chopin Piano Competition as well as recipient of the Albert Roussel Prize in 1939. Gousseau premiered piano works by Marcel Mihalovici and Henri Martelli in addition to Florent Schmitt. She also taught at the Paris Conservatoire beginning in 1961. Among her star pupils were Anne Quffélec, Émile Naoumoff and Alain Raës — pianists who have followed in her footsteps in championing the works of Paul Dukas, Florent Schmitt, Louis Aubert and other worthy composers of France’s “Golden Age” of classical music.

I have been unable to find evidence orchestral performances of Scènes de la vie moyenne since the premiere of the work in 1950, and while it is certainly possible that additional performances occurred in the years immediately following its creation, it’s unlikely that any have occurred in the past half-century — and almost certainly none outside of France.

As was the case with many of Florent Schmitt’s compositions, in 1952 the composer prepared a piano reduction of the Scènes de la vie moyenne, dedicating it to the noted French pianist Lélia Gousseau.

It was Gousseau herself who gave the first public performance of the piano version of the score in 1953 over French Radio.  I’ve heard that broadcast and find it to be an highly idiomatic interpretation — not at all surprising considering the very special talents of this particular artist in performing the French piano repertoire.

Maurice Hinson (1930-2015)

Of course, a look at both scores confirms that no performance of the piano version could ever compare with the color and inventiveness of the orchestral version of the suite. Nonetheless, it’s charms are substantial. As an example, in his Guide to the Pianist’s Repertoire — considered by many pianists an indispensable reference volume — the American author and internationally recognized authority on classical piano literature Maurice Hinson characterizes the music as “a most attractive suite.”

The first page of the piano score to Scènes de la vie moyenne, published by Durand in 1952.

As for the orchestral version, we can surmise that the composer himself was clearly convinced of the music’s worth.  One clue is that the Castles in Spain movement was selected to be part of a new ballet featuring Schmitt’s music – Jardin secret – which was mounted in June 1953.

A vintage postcard picturing the Casino of Enghien-les-Bains, where the ballet Jardin Secret, starring Solange Schwarz featuring the music of Florent Schmitt, was mounted in 1953.

That excerpt from the Scènes was grouped with Schmitt’s 1938 score Suite sans esprit de suite along with some connecting interludes to prepare the new ballet, which was presented at the Casino d’Enghien, featuring the dancer Solange Schwarz and orchestral forces under the direction of Richard Blareau.

Solange Schwarz (1910-2000)

It would be fascinating to locate any photos or film footage from the production that might have survived — and it appears that the score was published by Durand, too.

But sadly, as a whole the Scènes de la vie moyenne has failed to gain a foothold in either the piano or orchestral repertoire.  Written near the end of Schmitt’s lengthy career, the music didn’t have the luxury of time to build a following, likely suffering in “competition” with his established successes.

Charles-Marie Ludovic Richard Blareau (1910-1979)

As well, following Schmitt’s death in 1958, performances of the composer’s music in general declined considerably, and in such an atmosphere a comparatively unknown later piece like the Scènes would have had even more difficulty gaining traction with players and audiences.

Today however, with renewed interest in Schmitt’s compositions across the entire spectrum of his catalogue, the time seems right for exploration of Scènes de la vie moyenne by pianists and conductors alike.  Here’s hoping that several of them will be inspired to bring this worthy score to a new generation of music-lovers.

Five premiere recordings are part of the new collection devoted to the solo piano music of the composer, scheduled for release in October 2021 on NAXOS’s Grand Piano label.

Biljana Urban (Photo: Claudia Prieler)

Throughout his long career, French composer Florent Schmitt created many piano compositions — a body of work spanning more than a half-century from the early 1890s to the late 1940s. It’s true that Schmitt often referred to the piano as “a convenient but disappointing substitute for the orchestra,” but the reality is that he was a fine pianist himself, and his compositions for the instrument successfully exploited pianistic possibilities to the greatest possible degree.

Many of Schmitt’s solo piano pieces have been commercially recorded, including collections by performers such as Laurent Wagschal, Annie D’Arco, Pascal Le Corre, Ivo Kaltchev, Vincent Larderet and Angéline Pondepeyre. Still, a surprising number of them have yet to receive their first commercial recordings — in some cases more than a century after they were created.

That situation is being redressed in some measure by the release of a new collection of Florent Schmitt’s solo piano works planned for October 2021 on NAXOS’s Grand Piano imprint.  The soloist on the new recording is Biljana Urban, a French-trained pianist who is based in Amsterdam today. (You can view a short pre-release trailer about the new release here.)

The composer Jan Urban (1875-1952), Biljana Urban’s grandfather.

A NAXOS and Grand Piano recording artist, Biljana Urban comes from a family with a rich classical musical tradition. Her Czech-born grandfather was a composer and conductor — some of whose works she has recorded. Urban has also recorded the complete piano works of Jan Václav Voříšek for the Grand Piano label.

By birth and background, Biljana Urban is imbued with a truly European heritage. Of Czech and Serbian origin, she has dual Dutch and Croatian nationality in addition to having lived in France for many years. Besides concertizing, teaching and presenting master classes throughout the world, Urban has served as artist-in-residence at California State University in Fresno and is currently collaborating with the Exilarte Centre at the University of Music and Performing Arts in Vienna.

As her new Florent Schmitt recording project began to take shape, Biljana Urban reached out to me several years ago, asking for information on the composer’s solo piano pieces that had not received their first commercial recording. After providing to her a list of various works that would quality for inclusion, Miss Urban explored the scores, ultimately deciding on five world premieres from Schmitt’s early compositional period, along with one additional (non-premiere) work.

The five premieres on the new recording include:

• Prélude triste, Op. 3, No. 1 (1895)
• Ballade de la neige, Op. 6 (1895)
• Neuf pièces, Op. 27 (1903)
• Pupazzi, Op. 36 (1907)
• Ritournelle, Op. 2 bis (1925)

Recently,  I had the opportunity to visit with Biljana Urban to learn more about her strategy in coming up with the program that comprises the new recording of solo piano music by Schmitt. Our interview was conducted in English, and highlights of the discussion are presented below.

PLN:  When did you first become acquainted with Florent Schmitt and his music?

BLU:  My first encounter with Florent Schmitt was through the writings of the famous French pianist Alfred Cortot in the second volume of his two books on French piano music. But I do not recall seeing Schmitt’s name on French music programs in the 1980s — or even later. Fortunately, this is changing now.

Volume 2 of Alfred Cortot’s famous books about French piano music, published in 1932, contains a full chapter devoted to the works of Florent Schmitt.

Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979)

As for the first pieces by Schmitt that I knew, they included the piano work Crépuscules.  I also admired his powerful Psaume XLVII, and the fact that Nadia Boulanger was the organist at the premiere performance of that work only increased my curiosity – and admiration. 

Later, when I heard what the poet Léon-Paul Fargue said about the Psalm — that it was “like a crater of music opening up” — it seemed to me that one could also say that about Schmitt’s entire creative output:  It is a huge crater of profound-yet-unknown music, on the planet of the banned.

A gathering of artistic Paris at Florent Schmitt’s home in St-Cloud in about 1910. Pictured with Schmitt (at left) and his family are Léon-Paul Fargue (third from right) and Maurice Ravel (far right, back to camera).

I could also say that a deeper knowledge of Florent Schmitt and his piano repertoire came from your website about the composer, and from your consummate advocacy for his musical artistry. I thank you for that!

PLN:  What draws you to Florent Schmitt’s musical style?

A page from a vintage Durand & Cie. catalogue showing numerous piano works composed by Florent Schmitt.

BLU:  Consulting a few old catalogues of the major French publishers, I’ve been astonished to discover that Florent Schmitt was one of the most prominent figures in France’s “Golden Age” of classical music. In those days, Paris was the center of subtle as well as forthright artistic revolutions – yet at the same time it also tended to preserve the old paths. 

Clearly, a mix of styles including romanticism, impressionism, symbolism, cubism and orientalism influenced Schmitt’s prolific output. Yet paradoxically, one can also say that none of these styles made an indelible mark on his own personal style. This has presented me — as well as other interpreters of Schmitt’s music — with an intriguing and actually quite enjoyable puzzle. 

In Schmitt’s music you will find extremes of fortissimo and pianissimo within the space of just a few measures – also indicating many ritardandos and agogic changes. Sometimes the interpreter has to sacrifice some of these indications with the goal of bringing a composition to a unified whole — developing phrasing while adhering to the shape of the huge architectural arcs — with the integrity of the music being the ultimate goal. 

Above all, what drew me to Schmitt’s music was his special alchemy in melding impressionistic timbres with a Germanic romantic — perhaps even Brahmsian – expressiveness. It’s something that manifests itself in Schmitt’s musical expression — and I consider it nearly unique in that regard.

PLN:  Even though you live in the Netherlands and your ethnicity is Slavic, you seem very rooted in the French culture.  Where does that come from?

BLU:  I settled in Paris in 1985 to study at the École Normale de Musique. I continued to live there for 10 years while performing and teaching. But even more fundamentally, my mother was a professor of French language and literature, which meant that our home was filled with French books and little paintings from the bouquinistes of Paris.  She and I spent many hours watching French films together, too. 

Jean Gabin (1904-1976)

So France has imbued my life from my birth, in a way. One of my early heroes was Jean Gabin who starred in the role of Jean Valjean in the French film Les Misérables. My grandmother called me Cossette — or sometimes Gavroche, depending on my degree of obedience! 

The French pianist Alfred Cortot (1873-1952), photographed with Florent Schmitt in the early 1950s.

Later, during my adolescence when I became totally absorbed in music, I was fascinated by Cortot’s playing. I can remember listening endlessly to the Cortot LPs that had been licensed to Jugoton Records and that I still own to this day.

From Biljana Urban’s music library: Aldo Ciccolini plays piano music of César Franck on a Jugoton LP recording licensed from EMI in the 1970s.

I also admired Aldo Ciccolini, another legendary French pianist, and during my piano studies I became a passionate Debussyist.

Yet it was the music of César Franck that perhaps affected me the most. My first performances included all of Franck’s piano works. Considering this, it seems very fitting that the first teaching job I was offered in Paris was at the École Supérieure César Franck, a conservatory that was located in those days on the Rue Gît-le-Cœur.

Rue Gît-le-Cœur, Paris

César Franck (1822-1890) at the organ console at St-Clotilde, Paris.

I shall never forget the Sunday mornings when all of Paris was silent, where from my little mansarde-chambre in the 7th arrondissement I would hear the bells of St-Clotilde where César Franck had once been the primary organist.

PLN: Your new recording of Florent Schmitt’s solo piano music will be released on NAXOS’s Grand Piano imprint. This label specializes in world premiere recordings. Which Schmitt selections have you selected that are premieres?

BLU:  My new recording includes five world premieres plus one piece — Crépuscules — that has been recorded several times before. Beginning with the premieres, I selected Neuf pièces mostly for their tender musical expression that is remindful of Schmitt’s own teacher, Gabriel Fauré, who was once described by [French philosopher and musicologist] Vladimir Jankélévitch as “le plus raffine compositeur sur terre” (“the most refined composer on earth”). These along with the Opus 3 Prélude triste express Fauré-like eloquence and the power of pianissimos.

Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924), Florent Schmitt’s teacher and mentor.

I thought it would be particularly interesting to show this side of the composer. Florent Schmitt is often characterized as someone with a sense of irony, as well as somewhat impulsive and cynical in nature. These early pieces reveal the refinement and deft touch that Schmitt could also bring to his music — poetic, sensual and intimate.

Pupazzi is another premiere — a set of pieces remindful of Paul Verlaine’s Fêtes galantes that are particularly dear to my heart. I don’t actually know if Verlaine was the inspiration for Schmitt — but he definitely was for me! Indeed, the protagonists of the Pupazzi set — Scaramouche, Clymène, Arlequin, Cassandre, Damis, Eglé, Atys and Aminte — are found in many pages of literature and music throughout the centuries. Here it’s a veritable commedia dell’arte carnival — a procession of marionettes. Clymène in particular is a glistening jewel.

Inspiration down through the centuries: Commedia dell’arte characters.

I also present Ritournelle, a piece that’s listed in the catalogue as Schmitt’s Op. 2 bis but it might not be such an early work. It was published as late as 1925 and possesses the lightness and charm characteristic of French music of the année folles — the Roaring Twenties. It also reminds me of a later Schmitt piece — La Retardée, dating from the year 1936.

The last premiere, Ballade de la neige, closes out the recording.  It’s a piece that is beautifully described by Cortot as “born by vague undulations of contrasting rhythms — suggesting the slow, monotonous falling of snow, a low horizon, a forlorn sky.”

Cortot continues, “A sorrowful melody emerges from the harmonies, expands, contracts again and repeats itself, hollowing out a slow desolate furrow in a moving substance of sound.” To which I can only add, La neige, c’est une enfance: Snow is a childhood.

PLN:  And Crépuscules — why did you choose to include that piece even though it isn’t a world premiere recording?

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Crépuscules.

BLU:  Crépuscules is a set of four highly imaginative tone paintings for the piano. The first piece — Sur un vieux petit cimetière — evokes extraordinary timbres that emanate from the rhythmic complexity – like those of Cloches à travers les feuille by Debussy, who was probably the first composer in Western classical music to fully harness and exploit the phenomenon of sonority.

Florent Schmitt (l.) and Ralph Vaughan-Williams (r.), photographed in London in 1956. The two composers were friends for more than a half-century, and Schmitt dedicated the first piece in his piano set Crépuscules — Sur un vieux petit cimetière — to his English counterpart.

A Biljana Urban piano recital program featuring the music of Claude Debussy and Alexandre Scriabin.

Likewise, Schmitt was exploring that ineffable quality using his prodigious feeling for harmonization. And yet, contrary to Debussy, Schmitt’s language has something of an exuberant intensity to it; it’s an art of voicing that might bring Scriabin to mind (another composer with whom I have great affinity).

The other three pieces in Crépuscules are equally fascinating. Even though the work has already had several very fine recordings, I wanted to include it on my program — and I also wish to perform it in my recitals along with Debussy’s Images, because Schmitt’s piece is equally winsome!

PLN:  Please tell us a bit about the making of the new Florent Schmitt recording. For starters, where was it recorded?

The TivoliVredenburg Hertz-saal auditorium in Utrecht.

BLU:  All of my recordings are made in the Netherlands, my home country, in collaboration with Trivoli Vredenburg in Utrecht and its excellent concert venues. I am particularly fond of the warm, soulful, oval space of the Hertz-zaal where the Florent Schmitt album was recorded.

Producer and recording engineer Tom Peeters was the Tonmeister on two Florent Schmitt recordings released in 2021: Biljana Urban’s piano music recording on the Grand Piano label and the PRISMA Strijktrio’s recording of the String Trio on the Cobra Records label.

The sound engineer was Tom Peeters, an award-winning Tonmeister and producer. His skills are such that a BBC Music Magazine review once stated that Tom’s recordings are an art in themselves!

I’m also very happy to report that the very informative notes for the CD booklet sleeve have been prepared by the fine French musicologist Gérald Hugon.

Furthermore, I’m grateful for several of my friends and adult students — Mrs. Mies van Genderen, Mr. Johan Kappelhof and Mr. Hans Canton — who provided invaluable financial support for making the recording possible.

As an interesting adjunct to this project, I have also recorded music for an art film featuring the characters of Paul Verlaine and Florent Schmitt, which has been produced by filmmaker Toon de Zoeten and composer-sonologist Daniel Schorno and is now in the post-production phase.

PLN:  This isn’t your first recording project with Grand Piano. Can you tell us a little about your other activities with this label?

Jan Václav Hugo Voříšek (1791-1825)

BLU:  Yes, I undertook an earlier project for Grand Piano, recording the complete piano works of Czech composer Jan Václav Hugo Voříšek — a total of three CDs.

Researching Voříšek‘s life bought me to the land of my ancestors where I came across the neglected treasure-box of Czech composers working in Vienna in the time of the Habsburg ascendancy.

Biljana Urban’s three-volume Voříšek piano music project for Grand Piano (2014-16).

My research revealed that Voříšek‘s Rhapsodies, Op. 1 are not intended to be played as studies, nor are they meant to be flamboyant pieces.  This perspective was contrary to established musicological views on the subject (and also to previous performances of the music).

As an outgrowth of the Voříšek project, I am looking into the possibility of recording more unexplored Czech piano music for the Grand Piano label.

Biljana Urban photographed with music historian, author and producer Benjamin Michael Haas.

Also for NAXOS, I’ve recorded an album of piano music of my Czech-born grandfather, Jan Jovan Urban. That project led to encounters with Benjamin Michael Haas, the noted author, twentieth century music historian and one-time producer at Decca Records. Michael found the case of my grandfather fascinating and worthy of further exploration, for which I am grateful.

PLN: One final question: You have titled your new Florent Schmitt recording “Solitude.” Can you explain the meaning behind the title?

BLU:  “Solitude” is the title of the fourth and final piece in Crépuscules, and the score is headed with this quotation from the poet Léon-Paul Fargue: “In the end, everything that we love tends to leave us. Alone … we are always alone.”

Biljana Urban and her mother, Milica Urban, to whom the new Florent Schmitt recording is dedicated.

All of the references to France and French culture that I’ve been speaking about in this interview resonate deeply within me.

In that spirit, I have dedicated this new release to my beloved mother who passed away at the time of the recording — and who, from my earliest childhood years on, kindled in me a special love for la douce France.

_________________

We are indebted to Biljana Urban for taking up the cause of Florent Schmitt’s early piano works. The five premiere recordings in particular promise to be major additions to the catalogue. The recording is scheduled for release in October 2021 — offered in both physical and streaming/download form and available worldwide from all major online classical music vendors. It is already available for pre-order at Amazon, Presto Music and other sellers.

Fabien Gabel and Håkan Hardenberger confer with a member of the production team at the recording session with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra (August 2021).

In August 2021, the renowned trumpet virtuoso Håkan Hardenberger joined with conductor Fabien Gabel in Stockholm to make a recording of several gleaming jewels of twentieth century French trumpet concertante music. Together with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, Hardenberger and Gabel have recorded a program that includes:

• Henri Tomasi: Trumpet Concerto (original version – 1948)
• André Jolivet: Concertino for Trumpet, Piano & Orchestra (1948) + Trumpet Concerto No. 2 (1954)
• Florent Schmitt: Suite en trois parties, Op. 133 (1955)
• Betsy Jolas: Onze Lieder for Trumpet & Chamber Orchestra (1977)

Florent Schmitt seated at the doorway of his study at his home in St-Cloud, France. This photograph was taken in 1953, two years before he composed his Suite en trois parties for trumpet. (Photo: ©Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

It’s an interesting program in which Florent Schmitt’s Trumpet Suite is the next-to-youngest of the five pieces – even though Schmitt himself was born decades before the other composers.

For Håkan Hardenberger, the new recording, which will be released on the BIS label in Spring 2022, has been the opportunity to document his interpretations of these artistically significant works.

Bo Nilsson (1937-2018)

A native of Sweden, Hardenberger’s first studies were with the renowned trumpeter Bo Nilsson in his home country. In his more than three decades of concertizing, in addition to playing the classic trumpet repertoire  (Haydn, Hummel, Stamitz, Telemann, etc.) and the great pieces of the twentieth century French school, Hardenberger has championed the music of contemporary composers such as Peter Maxwell Davies, Hans Werner Henze, György Ligeti and Harrison Birtwistle — including introducing works written expressly for him.

Håkan Hardenberger, photographed early in his concertizing career.

It is fair to say that Hardenberger is immersed in the music of this new BIS recording. Having studied in Paris before embarking on his international solo career, the pieces have never been out of his repertoire. And yet, there are aspects of the recording that represent new facets. In the case of the Schmitt Suite in particular, this is the first time he has performed the piece with an orchestra instead of the piano.

Like father, like son: Fabien Gabel as a young teen, performing alongside his father Bernard Gabel, principal trumpet player at the Paris Opéra Orchestra. Young Fabien would later move on to a global conducting career.

Conductor Fabien Gabel is the ideal collaborator for the  BIS recording project. Not only is he one of the best-known and highly regarded French directors active on the international scene today, the trumpet was Gabel’s “main” instrument before his career as a conductor began. To top things off, Fabien’s own father, Bernard Gabel, was the long-time principal trumpet player at the Paris Opéra Orchestra, so the tradition of trumpet playing runs deep in his family.

Add to this the fact that Gabel and Hardenberger have known each other for several decades – and have performed together on numerous occasions – it makes their artistic collaboration on this new recording that much more fitting.

While all of the five pieces on the forthcoming BIS release have been commercially recorded before, the catalogue of current offerings isn’t all that extensive. In the case of Florent Schmitt’s Trumpet Suite, for instance, while several recordings exist of the version the composer penned for trumpet and piano, to date there has been just one recording ever made of the orchestral version (dating from 1998 on the Pierre Verany/Arion label, featuring soloist Éric Aubier).

In the offices of the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, Håkan Hardenberger and Fabien Gabel confer about the music selected for the new BIS recording of trumpet concertante works (Schmitt, Tomasi, Jolivet and Jolas). (August 2021)

In the case of the Tomasi Trumpet Concerto, the new BIS release will be the first-ever commercial recording of the composer’s original version of the piece – for which some 60 bars of music have been restored to the final movement. Reassembling the concerto, including orchestrating the missing music (which had survived only in a piano reduction manuscript) was a joint initiative on the part of Fabien Gabel, Håkan Hardenberger, Claude Tomasi (son of the composer), and conductor/orchestrator Franck Villard (a specialist in the music of Henri Tomasi).

Henri Tomasi photographed with his son, Claude Tomasi at St-Valery-sur-Somme, France. (1969 photo)

Reportedly, upon reviewing the Tomasi score Messrs. Hardenberger and Gabel concluded that not only must they perform it, they should also record it. As a BIS recording artist for many years, Hardenberger used his contacts there to lobby for the new project, while Gabel begin working on the financial aspects to turn the idea of the recording into a reality.

Recognizing the artistic importance of the new BIS recording, I approached the two artsts to ask if they would share their thoughts and perspectives about the music included on their program — particularly the Schmitt and Tomasi pieces. Highlights of our discussion, which was conducted in English, are presented below.

PLN:  When did you first become acquainted with Florent Schmitt’s Suite en trois parties?

Roger Delmotte played the premiere public presentation of Florent Schmitt’s Suite en trois parties (piano version) in 1955.

Håkan Hardenberger:  It was in the 1980s when I was studying in Paris. I participated in the Toulon International Trumpet Competition. The Schmitt Suite was a set piece in that competition and Roger Delmotte was president of the jury. I was fortunate to win that competition – and I have loved and performed the piece ever since then.

Fabien Gabel:  I studied the piece but never performed it in public. I’m younger than Håkan, and during my time of studies the piece was rarely asked for in competitions – and it was never included in audition repertoire.

PLN:  It’s interesting that the two of you share a common background as trumpet players. When did you first meet, and how have your musical paths crossed in the years since?

Pierre Thibaud (1929-2004)

Fabien Gabel:  On a personal level, Håkan knew my dad who was also a trumpet player, and they worked together. So I think I first met him when I was just five years old! He and I also studied with the same trumpet teacher in Paris – Pierre Thibaud – who often spoke about Håkan in glowing terms. Of course, Håkan has always been an example for me as well, when I was a trumpet player.

But we began working together professionally several years ago in Helsinki where we performed the concerto for trumpet called Nobody Knows the Trouble I See by Bernd Alois Zimmermann.

Håkan Hardenberger: Whether he’s been a trumpet player or not, I simply enjoy making music with Fabien!

PLN:  Concerning Schmitt’s piece, what special musical qualities do you see in the Suite?

Håkan Hardenberger:  I consider Florent Schmitt to be an important link between Debussy and Ravel on one hand, and Stravinsky on the other.  All four composers are heroes of mine, incidentally.

Fabien Gabel:  From a technical standpoint, the Suite is an incredible challenge in terms of playing and articulation. To my mind, some passages stretch the limits of the instrument’s possibilities; it’s almost as if the music were written for the clarinet! But a few players like Håkan have the ability to surmount those difficulties and make the music sound easy.  They are rare, however!

PLN:  Do you have a particular favorite of the three movements that make up the Suite?

Fabien Gabel:  The outer two movements are very virtuosic and also fun to play for both the soloist and the orchestra. This contrasts with the second movement which is very intimate and extremely lyrical.

Håkan Hardenberger:  The elegance of the first movement and the energy of the third are wonderful. But I would have to pick the second movement as my favorite. We really don’t have anything else like it in the trumpet literature.

PLN:  Mr. Hardenberger, you recorded the Suite with pianist Roland Pöntinen for Philips Classics back in 1989 – and now 30 years later you are making this new recording with orchestra. Has your conception of the music changed over this time?

The 1989 Philips recording.

Håkan Hardenberger:  I’ve played the piece all along and I’m sure the music has grown with me – but the text always remains the same!

At the same time, this is the first time I’ve performed the piece with an orchestra, and that changes a few things in timing and volume. I would like to perform it more often with orchestras in the future, but I wish the piece was just a bit longer which would make it easier to get onto programs.

PLN:  How about your experiences in conducting this music, Maestro?

The first public hearing of the orchestral version of Florent Schmitt’s Trumpet Suite was by Maurice André (1933-2012), in a January 1956 radio broadcast performance.

Fabien Gabel:  This recording with Håkan is the first time I’ve conducted the piece. But he and I will perform it again in Sweden – in concert with the Malmö Symphony in October. I think it might be only the second or third public performance of the music with orchestra since its premiere back in 1956 with Maurice André.

PLN:  In what ways does Schmitt’s orchestration of the piece change the “atmospherics” of the music, when compared to the piano version?

Fabien Gabel:  I’d say that the orchestration brings much more clarity, along with a huge variety of colors that we don’t really hear in the piano version. The orchestration also allows for a much more natural dialogue between the solo trumpet and the accompaniment.

PLN:  Your new recording is a musically rewarding collection of twentieth century trumpet concertante pieces by André Jolivet, Henri Tomas and Betsy Jolas in addition to Florent Schmitt. How did you build the program?  

Betsy Jolas

Håkan Hardenberger:  To me, the works on the recording are the most important pieces in the French trumpet repertoire from the mid-twentieth century. They range in date from the late 1940s (the Tomasi Concerto and Jolivet Concertino) to the late 1970s (the Jolas piece).

Fabien Gabel:  These pieces are true milestones of the trumpet repertoire. Unfortunately, many musicians are not aware of the importance of Florent Schmitt in French music in the twentieth century, but I would compare his talent and influence to Ravel. Let’s imagine a trumpet concerto composed by Ravel. Schmitt did that – but in a different language and keeping his singular personality.

The Betsy Jolas work is dear to Håkan’s heart, in part because the piece was dedicated to our trumpet teacher.

André Jolivet (1905-1974)

The two Jolivet pieces are interesting as well.  The Concertino was choreographed for a ballet at the Paris Opéra in performances that featured the famous Robert Delmotte as the trumpet soloist. The second Jolivet concerto is another great piece, influenced by jazz.

PLN:  Your new recording also includes the original version of Tomasi’s Trumpet Concerto. What can you tell us about this version of the piece?

Håkan Hardenberger:  Fabien was instrumental in finding the missing music of the Tomasi. Those 60 restored bars of the third movement make for a more balanced concerto in my opinion.

Henri Tomasi (1901-1971)

Fabien Gabel:  It’s an interesting story. During our first meeting, Håkan and I talked about some apparently missing music in the Finale. Clues included the extreme brevity of the movement along with some rather incoherent rehearsal numbers in the score. I then contacted Henri Tomasi’s son, Claude, who sent me a copy of his father’s manuscript score. It was then that we discovered that the original Finale included 60 extra bars of music.

Franck Villard

The question is why the composer cut them from the score when it was published. Håkan and I can speculate about the reasons – including the difficulty of the music and the length of the concerto for broadcast performance. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to locate the original orchestration, but Franck Villard, who is a specialist in Tomasi’s music, did amazing work!

[Note: Additional insights into Henri Tomasi and his Trumpet Concerto are contained in a  2003 doctoral dissertation prepared by Daniel Walter Shipman, which can be viewed here.]

PLN:  Thank you both for taking time to talk about your new recording. In closing, are there additional thoughts you’d like to share about Florent Schmitt’s music and its place in the repertoire?

Håkan Hardenberger:  I’ve always found the Schmitt Suite to be one of the few truly great pieces for trumpet – and now that I finally know it, I’m in love with the orchestration, too. I wonder which version of the piece came first?

Fabien Gabel:  I’m glad the music world has started to realize that Florent Schmitt’s music is as important as Ravel’s and Roussel’s. I’m confident that he will find his rightful place in the grand répertoire.  I’m very pleased that artistic managers of orchestras are asking about Schmitt’s music more and more.

Of course, I do my best to program his pieces as often as I can – and I’m happy to report that I’m playing more Florent Schmitt than ever this season.

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We are pleased to welcome this new recording of twentieth century French works for trumpet and orchestra featuring the consummate musical artistry of Håkan Hardenberger and Fabien Gabel. The release is planned for Spring 2022 on the BIS label. More details on the debut date will be announced as soon as they are available.

Post-session relaxation for Fabien Gabel and Håkan Hardenberger after recording French trumpet concertante music with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra (August 2021).

A very dapper Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time he composed Chant du soir.

Up until recently, familiarity with the earliest compositions of Florent Schmitt was rather scant.  The composer’s first works were created in the decade leading up to his winning the Prix de Rome first prize for composition in 1900. It was the period after Schmitt had completed his music studies at the conservatory in Nancy and was subsesquently attending the Paris Conservatoire, where his teachers included André Gedalge, Théodore Dubois, Jules Massenet and Gabriel Fauré.

Of Schmitt’s early works, only the piano suite Soirs, Op. 5 (composed in 1890-96 and later orchestrated), had gained any kind of currency in the recital hall or on recordings in the years leading up to current times. But in the past few years the situation has changed markedly, and more of Schmitt’s earliest works have been rediscovered. Portions of Trois mélodies, Op. 4 have been performed (and recorded) by countertenor Philippe Jaroussky, and several solo piano works (one of the Trois préludes, Op. 3 plus Ballade de la neige, Op. 6) have received their premiere commercial recordings by pianist Biljana Urban on NAXOS’s Grand Piano imprint, released in October 2021.

Romanian violinist and composer Georges Enescu (1881-1955).

Similarly, Chant du soir, Op. 7, a piece composed by Florent Schmitt in 1895 for violin (or English horn), has received its first two commercial recordings only in the past few years, accompanied by growing exposure in the recital hall.

The original version of the piece was premiered in 1900  in Paris at the Institut Lamartine (today the Bangladeshi Embassy on Avenue Henri Martin) by none other than the young violin sensation Georges Enescu, joined by pianist Juliette Toutain, Florent Schmitt’s classmate at the Paris Conservatoire.

Pianist and composer Juliette Toutain (1877-1948), was a classmate of Florent Schmitt at the Paris Conservatoire. Encouraged by the Conservatoire director, Théodore Dubois, to compete for the Prix de Rome composition prize in 1902, Toutain was unable to secure a change in the rules barring women from entering the competition. (That change would happen the following year, enabling Lili Boulanger to compete and win first prize in the 1913 competition.)

The work’s dedicatee wasn’t actually Enescu, but rather Armand Parent, a Belgian-born violinist and composer who also served as concertmaster of the Orchestre des Concerts Colonne. Presumably Parent performed Chant du soir at some point, but I have been unable to find documentation confirming when or where that may have happened.

Armand Parent (1863-1934). (Portrait by Odilon Redon, 1913)

As for the musical characteristics of Chant du soir, the style is inventive as well as attractive. The composition begins with a kind of Debussyian modal phrase — seductive, rhapsodic and rather mystical in character — which then proceeds through several evolutionary stages over the piece’s approximately five minute duration.

The American violinist and musicologist Robert Maxham has characterized Chant du soir as having “a style that occasionally recalls that of Debussy — now elusive, now ecstatic — but [which] projects his language far into the future.”

Steven Kruger

Chant du soir is very much a piece of its time — although, in keeping with the composer’s artistic development, one can also hear hints of the composer’s individual musical style that was yet to come. At its core, however, it remains a composition rooted firmly in the nineteenth century world of Massenet and Fauré. In that vein, the American music critic Steven Kruger states:

“This is a genuinely bewitching indoor evening piece that repays multiple hearings. It puts cozy arms around you and leads you into a glowing world of gentle affection.”

A vintage copy of the score cover to Florent Schmitt’s Chant du soir, written in 1895. The composer later revisited the score, and the revised version of the piece was published by Rouart-Lerolle et Cie. in 1931. Founded in 1904, this publishing firm — which was co-owned and managed by Jacques Lerolle, nephew of the French composer Ernest Chausson — would bring out music by some of the most important French and Spanish composers of the time including Isaac Albéniz, Henri Duparc, Vincent d’Indy, Charles Koechlin, Paul Ladmirault, Francis Poulenc, Guy Ropartz and Joaquín Turina in addition to Florent Schmitt. Rouart-Lerolle was acquired by Salabert in 1953.

First commercial recording: Beata Halska-Le Monnier and Claudio Chaiquin (violin version, 2015).

Although originally created in 1895, Chant du soir was revised by Schmitt several decades later; the later version was published in 1931 by Rouart-Lerolle.  It wouldn’t be until 2015 that the first commercial recording of the music appeared, featuring violinist Beata Halska-Le Monnier and pianist Claudio Chaiquin on a NAXOS release showcasing violin compositions by Florent Schmitt.

Second commercial recording: Martin Frutiger and Petya Mihneva Falsig (English horn version, 2021).

Interestingly, Schmitt’s revised score assigns the solo part to either a violinist or an English horn player, and in 2021 the second commercial recording of the piece was issued on the Guild Music label — that one featuring Martin Frutiger on cor anglais partnered with pianist Petya Mihneva Falsig.

Violinist Nicholas Wright and pianist Grace Huang play Florent Schmitt’s Chant du soir at Vancouver’s Music-on-Main concert at the Fox Cabaret Theatre. (Photo: Jan Gates, April 2018)

The recent appearance of Chant du soir on two commercial recordings has paralleled its growing presence in the recital hall as well.  In April 2018, British violinist Nicholas Wright, concertmaster of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra, performed the piece with pianist Grace Huang at a Music on Main Society event presented at the Fox Cabaret Theatre in Vancouver.  Wright’s impressive performance was captured on video and can be viewed on YouTube here.

Fabien Menzel (English horn) and Maria Conti Gallenti (piano) perform Florent Schmitt’s Chant du soir in recital. (November 2018)

Similarly, the English horn version of Chant du soir was presented in Switzerland in November 2018 — a performance that has also been uploaded to YouTube. That rendition, played by Fabian Menzel on English horn with pianist Maria Conti Gallenti, imbues the work with a significantly different character.

Luigi Spina

Considering the increased attention that Chant du soir has received recently, what seems clear that the music’s moment in the sun  has finally arrived — even if it’s taken more than a century for it to happen.  Furthermore, the piece has attracted the attention of other instrumentalists. As an example, a new version of the piece for transverse flute has been created by Luigi Spina and can be heard in this YouTube upload (allowances need to be made for the rather unappealing MIDI piano sound).

It may be an early entry in the Florent Schmitt catalogue, but Chant du soir is far from being merely a curiosity. Instead, the piece is well-worthy of its newfound position in the repertoire.  In my view, the piece is quite the gem — but give the work a listen and see what you think.

The piece will serve as the centerpiece of Kebyart’s ECHO Rising Stars concert programs being presented in 13 European countries between September 2021 and May 2022.

Kebyart Ensemble musicians: (l. to r.) Pere Méndez, Victor Serra, Daniel Miguel, Robert Seara. (Photo: IGOR STUDIO)

Formed in 2014, the Kebyart Ensemble is one of Europe’s most promising saxophone quartets. The group is making a name for itself on concert stages throughout Europe, and also records for the UK-based Linn Records label.

Balinese kebyar gamelan gong instruments.

The ensemble’s name derives from kebyar, the gamelan music that is characterized by colors and dynamics. As the Kebyart Ensemble’s website states, “The unique virtuosity and energy of kebyar creates a kind of ecstasy in the Balinese community – emotions that the four saxophonists of the Kebyart Ensemble aim to bring to their audiences as well.”

The Kebyart Ensemble’s home base is in Basel, Switzerland, but the group has its roots in Barcelona, Spain, where its four members met and worked as fellow students. The four players, all of whom are Selmer Paris and Vandoren artists, include:

• Pere Méndez, soprano sax
• Victor Serra, alto sax
• Robert Seara, tenor sax
• Daniel Miguel, baritone sax

The Kebyart Ensemble’s growing stature was given a major boost when it was selected to be a 2021-22 ECHO Rising Stars performing arts organization. Thanks to this initiative of the European Concert Hall Organisation, musicians named as ECHO Rising Stars are given the opportunity to perform in some of Europe’s most famous auditoriums in such cities as Amsterdam, Berlin, Brussels, Budapest, London, Paris, Stockholm and Vienna.

Between September 2021 and May 2022, the Kebyart musicians will be presenting programs that consist of original music for the saxophone (both classic repertoire and new creations), as well as arrangements of pieces originally written for other instruments.

Marcel Mule (1901-2001)

The centerpiece of Kebyart’s programming is Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Saxophones, Op. 102.  Composed in 1941 for Marcel Mule’s saxophone class at the Paris Conservatoire, Schmitt’s Quartet is universally acknowledged as a seminal work in the classical sax repertoire, as it represents a clear demarcation between it and works written previously for saxophone.

In the eight decades since Schmitt’s Quartet appeared, there have been countless newer classical works composed for solo saxophone and sax ensemble — and yet this piece retains its place within the very top ranks of compositions due to its quality of invention. As such, the piece is appreciated by musicians and audience members alike.

As the Kebyart Ensemble was finalizing preparations for its ECHO Rising Stars European tour, I had the opportunity to interview the four members about Florent Schmitt’s Quartet, its importance in the saxophone repertoire, and why they had decided to include the piece as part of their tour program. Highlights of our discussion, which was conducted in English, are presented below.

PLN:  When was the Kebyart Ensemble formed?  What was the inspiration behind its formation, and where is it based? 

Víctor Serra: The Kebyart Ensemble was founded in 2014 in Barcelona. Our inspiration came when we attended a recital performed by a saxophone quartet, and in talking with each other afterwards we came to the decision that we wanted to establish one ourselves.

At first our modest goals were to experiment together, learn from each other, and discover new ways of playing the saxophone — not individually, but in chamber music. That initial inspiration has changed in some ways over the years due to our growth, new musical tastes and new contacts, but the desire to work as a team has always been there. If anything, it is stronger than ever today.

Hochschule für Music (Basel, Switzerland)

These days we are based in Basel, Switzerland, where we combine our professional performing activities with our music studies. This will be our fourth year attending the Hochschule für Musik where we are finishing our second Master’s degrees. It is one of the best educational institutions in Europe, where people of all nationalities come together to learn in a place that offers renowned instructors and very good facilities.

Our current teachers are violinist Rainer Schmidt of the Hagen Quartet, bassoonist Sergio Azzolini, pianists Claudio Martinez Mehner and Anton Kernjak, and saxophonist Marcus Weiss.

Going abroad to study has helped us grow artistically, work with new teachers and mentors, and experience new ways of teaching. It is also beneficial to be located in the center of Europe. Basel is very well-connected and also very convenient as a launching point for travelling to present concerts.

Being abroad has also enabled us to discover how people work in other countries — different customs and traditions that help us view life in a more objective way rather than just conditioned by our own home culture. Still, we continue to maintain a strong connection with Spain where we return to give concerts or masterclasses once a month.

PLN:  How was the Kebyart Ensemble selected to be 2021-22 ECHO Rising Stars artists by the European Concert Hall Organisation? 

Visual as well as aural splendor: The Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona.

Pere Méndez: We were selected as ECHO Rising Stars thanks to nominations by the Palau de la Música Catalana and l’Auditori de Barcelona. We have a fruitful relationship with these institutions, both of which are part of the European Concert Hall Organisation.

News of the award arrived in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic — when we were receiving cancellations rather than bookings — and suddenly this gave us a very bright future! We consider this nomination a gift for which we will be forever grateful. In Spain as in other European countries, there is a great amount of musical talent, and many soloists and ensembles deserve this degree of recognition as well. Being well-aware of this, we plan to make the most of the opportunity we are fortunate to have been given. 

PLN:  As 2021-22 ECHO Rising Stars artists, you have the opportunity to play concerts all across Europe.  How many concerts will you be playing – and where? 

The Kebyart Ensemble in concert.

Daniel Miguel: We will play 17 concerts in the best halls in Europe — in places like the Philharmonie de Paris, Wiener Musikverein, Amsterdam Concertgebouw, the Elbphilharmonie in Hamburg and the Palau de la Música Catalana, to name just some. We will perform in the United Kingdom, The Netherlands, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Poland, Austria and Hungary.

We’ll also continue with other commitments that we already had on our agenda, including playing as soloists in the Philip Glass and David Maslanka  saxophone concertos as well as performing in other concerts and music festivals. And we’ll record our second CD on the Linn Records label.

It will definitely be the busiest season of our careers so far.

PLN:  The program you have selected for your concerts is an interesting mix of styles and eras.  Florent Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet is a centerpiece of the program.  Why did you decide to include that piece? 

The Kebyart Ensemble program performed in Luxembourg.  (October 2021)

Robert Seara: We have always aimed to have an eclectic aspect to our programs, and we try to approach programming with that sense of creativity and openness.

In most of our concerts we seek a balance between three types of works: transcriptions of music from the past that we think is worth revisiting with saxophones; new music created by composers of current times; and finally, presentation of the classic repertoire for saxophone quartet.

Within the first group, we decided to open our programming with Igor Stravinsky’s Pulcinella Suite. Following our exposure to the fantastic adaptation of Ensemble Squillante, we wanted to perform our personal vision of the piece.

Igor Stravinsky (l.), photographed with Florent Schmitt in about 1910.

We also liked the background of this particular music, since Pulcinella is essentially a ballet built from music of the 18th century (by composers such as Pergolesi, Gallo and Wassenaar) as seen through the neoclassical lens of the 20th century Stravinsky. At the time of its creation, one could say that it was a modern reading of the music of the past. Likewise for us, in our approach to the music of the past we like to think of the saxophone quartet formation as an “updated mouthpiece,” so to speak.

Florent Schmitt (l.) and Igor Stravinsky visit during a social function at the American Embassy in Paris in 1957. Mme. Vera de Bosset Soudeikine Stravinsky looks on at left, and composer Henri Dutilleux (back to camera) is pictured in between both older men.

To pair with the Stravinsky, we thought the best choice within original sax repertoire would be Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet. As an article on the Florent Schmitt Website recounts so well, the two musicians maintained a beautiful friendship and mutual admiration for one another. For example, in the famous evening of the premiere of Le Sacre du printemps in Paris in 1913, the Frenchman Schmitt was one of the most energetic (and vociferous!) defenders of the Russian Stravinsky.

So, in that sense we thought it would be fitting to bring their music together on the same program. (Besides, after seven years of playing so much of the original saxophone quartet music, we’ve come to believe that Glazunov’s and Schmitt’s quartets are, without doubt, the best works written for saxophone ensemble during the first half of the 20th century.)

PLN:  What special musical qualities does Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet possess that gives it the reputation it holds in the saxophone repertoire? 

Daniel Miguel: First of all, it is an entire quartet piece — similar to the classical string quartet structure, with four contrasting movements. The saxophone quartet repertoire has only a few works like that. Second, it is the work of a renowned composer.

Add to this the complexity of Schmitt’s writing and the mixture of interesting styles inherent in the music, and it makes this piece a particularly important work for saxophonists.

Víctor Serra: I’d also add that the length of the Quartet distinguishes it from works of the same period, which may have some stylistic similarities but are much less robust in comparison. As Daniel states, Schmitt’s piece follows the canonical structure of string quartets. It includes the initial movement (which in this case does not follow sonata form), a second movement in the manner of a Scherzo, a slow third movement, and a final movement with a lively character and tempo.

The stylistic variety between movements and, at the same time, the compelling nature of each one of them individually, make it impossible for listeners to “disengage” at any moment when listening to the piece.

Robert Seara

Robert Seara: As my colleagues have already pointed out, I think the thematic coherence between the four movements gives it a sense of unity that is noteworthy compared to other works of the period written for saxophone quartet.

Another aspect that makes the piece special is that it allows for a wide range of readings and interpretations. It’s the kind of music where both players and listeners can continually discover new details that they hadn’t noticed before. I think this is the kind of characteristic that elevates a work of art to something that’s truly great.

Pere Méndez: Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet is a work with a lot of personality. In a sense, it is its own unique world through which we can travel and discover new landscapes. There will be familiar things — but new and stimulating discoveries as well.

Here’s another interesting point: In many 20th century works, I think that the final movements of the pieces can be relatively weak in terms of their musical ideas.  Not in Florent Schmitt’s case! With him, there’s always an intelligence that makes even the most simple or obvious themes sound very sophisticated.

PLN:  What sort of technical difficulties does the Saxophone Quartet pose for individual players — and for the ensemble as a whole? 

Daniel Miguel: For me, the complex textures of the music is the main difficulty as an ensemble. Individually and perhaps related to the same point, it is necessary to work on a wide dynamic range — especially the aural definition in the pianissimos. 

Víctor Serra: In numerous places, the musical ideas that Schmitt uses go against the nature of the saxophone. One example is the accompaniment that includes a lot of busy activity that has to be played in pianissimo dynamics. There’s also his use of simultaneous textures of great density which makes it quite difficult to “hear” the main melody — but which at the same time have great musical significance and need to be interpreted in a very specific way. Sometimes it seems as if the music was intended to be played by a string quartet instead of a saxophone quartet; it isn’t at all idiomatic!

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Saxophones, composed in 1941 and published by Durand et Cie. in 1948.

Robert Seara: The compositional thinking in the piece is complex and dense in many places in the score. On a structural level, in numerous passages different musical gestures follow one another in rapid succession — sometimes even overlapping. At the melodic level, the motifs are very rich and sophisticated. And as for the harmonic language, in some passages (particularly in the first movement), Schmitt absolutely stretches the limits of tonality.

These aspects of complexity make the music difficult to comprehend — especially for someone who is hearing it for the first time. For this reason, I think the most daunting interpretative challenge is to be as eloquent as possible — and to be able to present all of the intricacies in the most clear and convincing way so that listeners can better enter the sound-world of the piece.

Pere Méndez: In order to deliver a successful interpretation of Schmitt’s Quartet, you have to be almost like a chameleon — and completely flexible. Within the space of a split second sometimes, you need to shift from being solid but soft, to becoming a lyrical and extroverted singer.

We shouldn’t forget to mention that there are also some extremely complex rhythmic passages of three against two. How to keep the musical pattern alive in that environment is, in itself, a very difficult task!

PLN:  I’d like to ask for your observations about each movement of the Saxophone Quartet.  First, your thoughts about the opening movement – ‘avec une sage décision’ … 

Daniel Miguel: That Avec une sage décision description remains a big mystery to me. What does it really mean? Is it ironic — or is it serious? In either case, it’s very clever how the composer deals in a fugue style with little sparkling gestures of the material which contrapose the theme — a theme that is built with tritones and fifths! The movement is simultaneously confusing and surprising, but in the end it succeeds magnificently.

Víctor Serra: Considering that this saxophone quartet is a somewhat Impressionistic piece, it’s curious that the piece begins with such a decidedly fugue-like subject; with forte dynamics and with various accents but also making use of very particular intervals — largely tritones. From my point of view, Schmitt could be playing games with listeners with this opening that might make them think of some kind of dodecaphonic series. But in reality — analyzing the chords that are created by joining the voices of each saxophone — the music is totally tonal, while making use of dissonances to add new colors in order to enrich the piece and place it stylistically in its own time.

Once this first movement has begun and with attentive listening, we can begin to discover all kinds of nuances and interactions that have gone unnoticed for too long, due to empty and too-literal interpretations of the musical notation without taking into account the wealth of ideas that the composer intends to transmit.

The first page of Florent Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet score, with the Kebyart Ensemble’s rehearsal markings shown.

Robert Seara: What composer would ever think of beginning the first movement of a quartet with a fugue? And beyond that, a structurally unpolluted fugue! First, we have an exposition with a subject and its tonal response that then interacts with the countersubject. This is followed by an episode that separates the following subject-countersubject entrance, and then a musical development that employs techniques such as inversion, fragmentation, retrogradation — and finally, a last section with false entrances and stretti that leads to a cadential coda that resolves in a major mode!

Structurally, Bach could perfectly well have created such a fugue. But as my colleagues point out, Florent Schmitt’s intervallic and harmonic material has such an incredibly unique personality, it  elevates it to a completely different league.

From my point of view, opening the Quartet like this is an ironic statement by the composer — reflecting a personality that Schmitt’s biographer Catherine Lorent described as “a man with a caustic spirit, and a composer who will use humor throughout his life.”

Pere Méndez

Pere Méndez: We’ve questioned ourselves often about how best to approach the interpretation of this first movement. It is of an extroverted character — almost militaristic — based on a preterite  fugal form. But on top this we have an indication in the score that engenders confusion (fugue ou presque).

What exactly would Schmitt want to tell us with this statement?

One possible answer is to consider that this “presque” is for the brief interludes between these more “militaristic” parts — but who really knows? Again, it’s Schmitt playing with us, and probably having the time of his life doing so!

A further riddle is the tonal center of the piece. Bear in mind that the piece is ostensibly in E minor, but there are very few tonal centers; the overwriting of the fugue and its counterpoints makes any tonal perception of the piece difficult to discern, and it can all be quite disconcerting in a first audition.

PLN:  Turning to the second movement ‘vif’ – any particular feelings to share about the musical qualities of this one? 

Daniel Miguel: In my opinion, the second movement is all about fantastic creatures. After a rather jazzy opening, the rhythmic patterns in the accompaniment make the beautiful and exotic melodies float.

Víctor Serra: It is a very suggestive movement that’s in complete contrast to the first movement. This Vif is full of life as its title indicates, but it does so in a particularly intriguing way. There is this fascinating dialogue between the three upper voices and the baritone saxophone, which fills in the temporary spaces left by the other three voices.

Moreover, there is no clear melody; rather, it is a constantly moving texture that comes and goes but never stays still. The composer’s use of hemiolas throughout this movement is quite remarkable. For example, in Un peu moins vite, the alto saxophone melody can be thought of in 2/4 time while the other three voices are in 3/4 time. Schmitt doesn’t intend to make this resource evident at all and does so in an elegant way, with a moto perpetuo accompaniment and a melody full of intervals with very singular colors — all four voices having pianissimo dynamics and which leave the hemiola in the background. It causes this movement to flow in a remarkably fluid way, and with clear Impressionistic touches.

The first page of the second movement from Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Saxophones.

Robert Seara: In my view, the musical atmosphere of the second movement doesn’t belong to the real world — nor does it speak of human and earthly emotions. Instead, it transports us to a kind of “unreal universe” of fantasy. The repeated use of augmented and diminished chords within the complex rhythmic framework generates a feeling of weightlessness that seems more typical of a dream-world. I think of this movement as a small reverie, in fact.

Pere Méndez: As my colleagues might say, it is oneiric music. Too often, saxophone players give too much importance to the rhythmic aspects, but with a dreamlike approach this movement achieves another dimension — everything is floating until the final bar. As in Impressionism, nothing is completely clear; the day is not bright and a bridge is not clearly a bridge. This is why I advocate interpreting this movement in a manner that’s based on a sense of the “indeterminate.”

PLN:  The slow movement ‘assez lent’ is of a very different character – how would you describe it? 

Daniel Miguel: I really love this movement, which is very emotional and undoubtedly the most Impressionistic one of all. Schmitt works with these “2 vs. 3” metrics to make us connect with the music. Again, the result is floating melodies with no defined sense of pulse.

Victor Serra

Víctor Serra: This movement raises rhythmic doubt from the very beginning. The ostinato of the baritone saxophone completely contrasts with the clear 4/4 time signature of the rest of the voices. It’s very interesting how the composer uses all possible combinations of saxophone voicings to achieve completely different textures within a single movement. These range from homophonic to accompanied melody, from voices moving in parallel to super-complex and dense accompaniments. In the process, it elevates this movement far above any other slow movement written for saxophone quartet.

On a rhythmic level, we should also mention Schmitt’s interest in the “clash” between voices when they possess values with different subdivisions — for example, four sixteenth notes against an eighth note triplet, or a syncopation against a quarter note triplet. These are just two examples — and this movement is full of them — employed by the composer in order to blur the harmonies and at the same time  give the music a very original texture.

The first page of the third movement from Florent Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet score.

Robert Seara: I feel that Assez lent is built on a great musical arc that spans the whole movement. It begins with an impassible ostinato of the baritone saxophone, then builds to an ecstatic climax, and finally dissolves into a liberating F-sharp major chord.

To me, it presents a very interesting parallel to the Passacaille of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Trio (also a third movement), which likewise develops from a bass motif that, implicitly or explicitly, will be present throughout the movement until the music dies away at the end.

Pere Méndez: I like to think of this movement as something that comes from far away, finally reaches you, and then dissipates as if it never existed. It’s a beautiful example of writing for saxophones — full of stimulating melodies and extraordinary sonorities.

PLN:  The final ‘anime sans excès’ takes us on an interesting journey.  What do you find particularly memorable about this movement? 

Daniel Miguel: Let’s start by saying that it’s a savage movement for saxophone players! The middle section is quite a nightmare for the alto saxophone in particular. Tons of notes — and in the end the four saxophones join in fast and crazy passages. It’s a difficult movement to bring off successfully, but definitely the best sort of way to end the piece.

Kebyart Ensemble (Photo: IGOR STUDIO)

Víctor Serra: This final movement is probably the most varied one of the four. It’s thanks to these contrasts that the formal structure in the A-B-A  form becomes clear. Throughout, each of the four saxophones has moments of prominence, along with being forced to play all sorts of roles in the construction of the whole within the texture.

The indication Animé sans excès is a clear declaration of intent on the part of the composer who, despite the fact that this is a concluding movement written for four saxophones, doesn’t want to forego delicacy and elegance. On numerous occasions the writing forces the players to pass from one extreme to the complete opposite, as if it were a spell or an illusion.

This is the movement that is most clearly intended to showcase the virtuosity of the performers — but in fact every one of the Quartet‘s four movements requires musicians to exhibit a wide variety of skills — and virtuosity everywhere.

Robert Seara: In French music of this era, it was quite common to end pieces with a folkloric fast movement that sometimes lacked much in the way of musical depth. This is most certainly not the case with this Anime sans excès. Although Schmitt draws on dance influences, he manages to detach himself from any superficialities — instead offering us rich, vibrant music that journeys through a myriad of musical effects.

On top of all this, Schmitt reemploys the motifs and intervals of the previous movements in a camouflaged way. In this manner, the close of the work maintains a coherence that gives it an an unusual degree of artistic unity and integrity.

The first page of the fourth movement from the score to Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Saxophones.

Pere Méndez: This movement also illustrates an extraordinary trait of Florent Schmitt — his ability to be popular but at the same time sophisticated. I am amazed at the fact that he worked so meticulously on each of the instrument voices – some of them with nearly inaudible dynamics. It’s an achievement that’s rarely been matched by other composers.

PLN:  Do each of you have a “favorite” moment within the Saxophone Quartet? 

Daniel Miguel (Photo: IGOR STUDIO)

Daniel Miguel: The ending of the third movement is my favorite moment. After all the emotion, an ascending melody is shared by the saxophones and ends in a peaceful F# major chord that sounds round and full of harmonics.

Víctor Serra:  For me there are two very special moments in this work. The first is when the alto saxophone “sings” the melody in the second movement; after all the busy activity generated in the opening bars, the arrival at this solo is as if time suddenly stops to give way to a timeless — even surreal — event. What’s also wonderful about this moment is the intimate atmosphere that is created, requiring all four voices to be in pianissimo dynamics and leaving the audience with a sense of surprise and wonder at the incredible textures created by the four unified voices.

I also love it when, in the fourth movement, Schmitt paints in Spanish nationalistic colors — for example in rehearsal numbers 1 and 2, as a result of the sum of voices that gradually appear until the four saxophones come together. The composer accomplishes this in a very subtle, homophonic and elegant way.

Those are a couple special moments, but throughout the piece Schmitt utilizes all sorts of compositional tricks, and with careful listening one could perceive an infinite number of details. Truly, Florent Schmitt spared nothing in the way of ideas when he composed this work.

Robert Seara: For me, I find the transition between the first and second sections of the slow movement to be especially beautiful. At rehearsal number 4, Schmitt splits the first notes of the initial ostinato between the baritone and tenor sax, resulting in a new motif of three ascending notes in the baritone. This new motif is precisely the one that starts the melody of the alto saxophone from rehearsal number 5, which will intensify until it reaches the climax at rehearsal number 7. It’s a brilliant idea of the composer, who in this manner connects both sections in an almost imperceptible way. The initial ostinato is still present in the second section, but concealed. It’s masterful.

Pere Méndez: I particularly enjoy playing the third movement. In fact, I wish there were more pieces with its very special musical language in the saxophone quartet repertoire. 

PLN:  How long has the Kebyart Ensemble had Florent Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet in its repertoire?  

Víctor Serra: The first time we performed the piece was in 2015. It was the second year of our ensemble and we wanted to work on an original piece for saxophone quartet. At the time we also listened to the Alfred Desenclos Saxophone Quartet. After comparing the two works, we decided by vote to work on Schmitt’s piece. During the 2015-16 season we played it in several concerts in Spain — Catalonia, Valencia, and at the Roman theatre of Baelo Claudia in Andalusia.

Touring all across Europe … but not like this!

We also played the piece in several competitions, such as the 84th Permanent Chamber Music Competition of Juventudes Musicales de España where we obtained Second Prize, and the 12th Chamber Music Prize Montserrat Alavedra – Music Prize BBVA where we won First Prize.

Following those competitions, we had not performed it again until we put together the program for the ECHO Rising Stars tour that we’ll be presenting all over Europe.

PLN:  What is the background of the musicians who make up the Kebyart Ensemble? How and where did you meet? 

Daniel Miguel: All four of us were studying Bachelor in Performance – Classical Saxophone at Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya (ESMUC), in Barcelona. Surprisingly, Victor and Robert had attended the same elementary school — but they didn’t realize this until they saw old school photos that their parents had kept!

Pere and I knew each other before, too. But studying together in Nacho Gascon‘s class, we decided to start a saxophone quartet project not only for the chamber music credits, but also as a way to share the passion of playing with others and learning together.

Kebyart Ensemble: Positive press coverage beginning in Spain … then spreading beyond.

We started with modest goals — first performing a concert outside the University, then participating in a small competition. We received good feedback from those early efforts, and the positive results continued to make our venture initiative grow bigger and bigger.

Today after eight years, the passion has not dimmed and the Kebyart Quartet is making a name for itself on the European scene after presenting more than 200 concerts and earning ten international prizes. 

PLN:  What are the future plans of the Kebyart Ensemble, following the completion of your ECHO Rising Stars touring? 

Pere Méndez: Our goal is straightforward: to continue growing as a chamber group and consequently as musicians. We hope to become more international in our touring activities and to continue discovering and exploring repertoire — as well as commissioning new works from noted living composers to help generate a legacy for our generation and beyond.

PLN:  As we wrap up, are there any additional thoughts you would like to share about Florent Schmitt’s music and its place in the saxophone repertoire – or within classical music in general?

Adolphe Sax (1814-1894)

Robert Seara: As a relatively new instrument, the saxophone is still shaping its repertoire. Although nearly two centuries have passed since its invention by Adolphe Sax, the relatively small number of works that have been written for the instrument as either solo or chamber music are subject to the filter of time. Time will determine which music will live on versus falling into semi-oblivion.

For us, it is clear that Florent Schmitt’s works for saxophone (both his Légende Op. 66 and his Quartet for Saxophones Op. 102) will always remain cornerstones of the literature for the instrument. This is due to the undeniable quality of the music; both pieces are treasures that compel saxophonists to study, learn, play and program them again and again.

Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time he composed his Saxophone Quartet.

Lastly, like any other artistic creation, Florent Schmitt’s Saxophone Quartet is a reflection of an era and a time gone by. In 1941, in the midst of the conflagration that was World War II, the history of music was taking its course. Dmitri Shostakovich was writing his Leningrad Symphony, Olivier Messiaen was premiering his Quatuor pour la fin du temps in a Nazi prison camp with other imprisoned musicians, and Florent Schmitt was secluded away at his country retreat in the Haute-Pyrénées, finishing work on his Saxophone Quartet — a piece that remains a unique and memorable composition to this day.

When interpreting this piece and performing it for audiences, we like to think that we’re revisiting and reliving a little piece of the past — from the perspective of one of the most exceptional composers of the 20th century.

__________________

With Florent Schmitt’s Quartet for Saxophones and the other interesting repertoire that the Kebyart Ensemble has chosen for its programming, its upcoming performances are sure to resonate with audiences. Here’s hoping that the Ensemble’s ECHO Rising Stars European concert tour will be a great success in every respect.

Frank Cooper

Among the most impressive music channels on YouTube are two that are run by Helen Moritz, who has uploaded a wealth of rare piano performances from yesteryear. Ms. Moritz has painstakingly searched for audio recordings of recitals given by some of classical music’s greatest pianists.  Among the artists are Jorge Bolet, Mieszyslaw Horszowski, Raymond Lewenthal, Guiomar Novaes, John Ogdon, Arthur Rubinstein, Rudolf Serkin, Joseph Villa, Alexis Weissenberg and Earl Wild — and there are numerous others as well.

The Cooper-Marks recital at Butler University (October 8, 1967).

What’s additionally gratifying is that some of the performances are of pieces that are genuine rarities rather than the usual recital repertoire.  It was just such an upload that was brought to my attention recently by the American conductor and pianist Ira Levin, who alerted me to a 1967 recital featuring duo-pianists Frank Cooper and Martin Marks. The recital was an all-French program of music by Germaine Tailleferre, Darius Milhaud … and Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies, Op. 53, presented at Clowes Memorial Hall on the campus of Butler University in Indianapolis.

Frank Cooper (l.) and Martin Marks (r.) joined together to present recitals and concerts for Indianapolis audiences in the late 1960s. Martin Marks (1923-2004) taught piano students at Butler University for 44 years, retiring as professor emeritus from the institution in 1997.

Considering the date of the recital, I realized that Messrs. Cooper and Marks were virtually alone in performing Schmitt’s piece in those times — at least in the United States — and I was more than intrigued.

How had the pianists discovered the Trois rapsodies — which although somewhat familiar to music aficionados today would have been completely unknown to them in 1967?

Edward Kilenyi (1910-2000)

With Maestro Levin’s assistance, I was introduced to Frank Cooper and we struck up a correspondence. I soon came to realize that, while he might be best-known today as a musicologist and professor of music history, earlier in his career Cooper was very much a performing artist.

Composer and pianist Ernst von Dohnányi (1877-1960).

A native of Atlanta, he studied piano performance with two masters of the keyboard — Edward Kilenyi and Ernst von Dohnányi — at Florida State University before joining the music faculty at Butler University.

It was at Butler that Cooper established the Festival of Neglected Romantic Music, which soon became recognized for its important role in jumpstarting the Romantic music revival. Harold Schonberg, music critic of The New York Times, praised the artistic excellence of the annual Romantic Music Festivals, which resurrected numerous works that hadn’t been heard in concert or recital since the late 19th century.

Frank Cooper’s recording of piano concertante pieces by Alexander Dreyschock and Joachim Raff, made with the Nuremberg Symphony Orchestra (Genesis label, 1972).

It was also during his tenure at Butler University that Frank Cooper made world premiere commercial recordings of several piano concertante works (by Ignaz Brüll, Alexander Dreyschock and Joachim Raff) which were released on the Genesis label in the early 1970s.

After 1977, Cooper transitioned into arts management — first in Indianapolis and later in Miami, where he directed the Dade County Council of Arts & Sciences before returning to teaching — this time at the New World School of the Arts and also the University of Miami. A “second act” of arts management followed in 1994, when Cooper founded the Mainly Mozart Festival, a South Florida summer music series which he directed until 2012.

Frank Cooper demonstrates the “musical mechanics” of the clavicytherium — part of his personal collection of antique and hand-built reproduction keyboard instruments. (Photo: Jim Davis, Florida Catholic, 2014)

These days, in addition to being Research Professor Emeritus of Musicology at the University of Miami’s Frost School of Music, Frank Cooper is a guest lecturer, presents pre-concert talks at many classical music events in the region, and writes program notes and annotations for recordings. He does all of this while also being the custodian of an enviable personal collection of antique and hand-built reproductions of harpsichords, pianos and other keyboard instruments (including a clavicytherium) at his home in Coral Gables.

Considering that in 1967 Frank Cooper was just one year away from founding the Romantic Music Festival, it seems quite logical that he would have been attracted to Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies. These are early-career numbers that Schmitt composed in 1903-04 during his Prix de Rome period. Although Schmitt’s style would later migrate pretty definitively into polytonal and polyrhythmic realms, at that time he was still very much under the sway of the 19th century musical aesthetics of Schumann, Massenet and Fauré (the latter two had been Schmitt’s composition teachers at the Paris Conservatoire).

The composer was an accomplished pianist himself, and so it comes as little surprise that the technical demands of Trois rapsodies are substantial. Despite their difficulty, Schmitt was able to play them with fellow-composers André Caplet and Maurice Ravel — privately and, in the case of Ravel, performing the piece in concert in Paris and London. Evidence suggests that the third number in the set, Rapsodie viennoise, was the inspiration for Ravel to prepare the first sketches of a piece he called Wien — a work that would later become La Valse following the end of World War I.

The camaraderie of the musicians, artists and architects who resided at Rome’s Villa Medici was palpable, and resulted in many lifelong friendships. This rare photograph from Florent Schmitt’s days at the Villa Medici shows him playing piano duets with fellow composer André Caplet (1878-1925), to Schmitt’s right. Looking on is sculptor René Gregoire (1871-1945) and lounging upside-down on the sofa is painter Jean-Amadée Gibert (1869-1945).

The Invencia Piano Duo’s 10th Anniversary recital featured the music of Florent Schmitt (including Trois rapsodies) and Paul Bowles.

The three pieces that make up Trois rapsodies (the others are Française and Polonaise), are sophisticated numbers, brilliantly written for two pianos. But beneath their glittery surface lies some truly meaty musical material. Having seen Trois rapsodies presented in concert (part of a recital given by the Invencia Piano Duo in Norfolk, VA in 2013), I can personally confirm that the piece makes quite an impression when performed live — both in the moment and lasting in the memory long after. In this regard, the score is quite extraordinary.

Wanting to learn more about Frank Cooper’s voyage of discovery with Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies, I asked if he would be willing to be interviewed on the topic, to which he generously agreed. Highlights of our very interesting conversation are presented below.

PLN:  How did you first discover Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies? 

FEC:  In 1963, the year I went to Indianapolis to take my first job at Butler University, Harold C. Schonberg’s book The Great Pianists appeared and took my imagination by storm. While in college, I had previously read that book of wonders which is Arthur Loesser’s Men, Women & Pianos, which had primed me for Schonberg’s lively accounts of pianists and their feats.

In particular, Leopold Godowsky’s contrapuntal studies based on Chopin’s Etudes seemed, as described, impossible.

I wanted the see for myself – but nowhere could I find the music. When, for Christmas, I went home to Atlanta, I called on Billy Munn, whose store, the Atlanta Music Company, was downtown – at that time the major source of sheet music for piano teachers and students in the region. 

Billy Munn informed me that those volumes were long out of print. However, he knew someone who had them all (along with the rest of Godowsky’s music) – and he reported that she might want to sell them. 

An advertisement for the Atlanta Music Company, appearing in the conference booklet of the 11th annual Georgia Music Teacher’s Convention held in November 1964. AMC was a fixture on the Atlanta music scene for decades until its closure in 1979. Its proprietor, William O. ‘Billy’ Munn, was a pianist who had played with various dance bands in the 1920s and 1930s, including for the first broadcast of WSB radio (soon to become Atlanta’s leading AM station). In the 1940s and 1950s AMC sold records as well as sheet music, but the store dealt in sheet music exclusively thereafter. Over the years AMC was also a perennial advertiser in the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra’s concert program booklets.

I wrote to Mrs. Harry Honeywell — Ruby — who answered. Further exchanges revealed that her late husband’s collection of piano music was far more extensive than just Godowsky’s scores. She thought I should visit her to see for myself. 

A friend drove me to her home. There, arranged on her dining room table and on each of its eight chairs — and in stacks on the floor extending into the hall — were scores organized in alphabetical order by composer — each stack topped by a small blue composition book in which she had laboriously listed everything in the pile beneath. 

The first thing that caught my eye was a volume of Liszt’s piano transcriptions of the first five Beethoven symphonies. I exclaimed how excited I was to see it — especially the Fifth, famous in its day. Ruby encouraged me to take the music to the piano. 

When I had finished sight-reading the first movement more or less in tempo, she said, “You have to have Harry’s collection.” 

It took me about six years, sending her whatever sum I could each month — $35 or $50 — and receiving in exchange a package of scores in return, before she wrote that I’d paid enough. The rest of the music arrived in boxes. 

Throughout the process, I read through every piece in each package to the degree that I could. The result: first-hand knowledge of the vast range of piano music. Discoveries often sent me back to re-read portions of Schonberg’s book, and my colleagues at Butler were regularly victimized by my enthusiasm for music they didn’t know. 

So to come around to answering your question, the Florent Schmitt Trois rapsodies were among the piano scores that made up Harry Honeywell’s collection, but of course I did not know the music before then.

Pages from a vintage score to Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies for two pianos (1903-4), published by Durand.

PLN:  What were your impressions of the Trois rapsodies when you first looked at the score?

FEC:  The notes looked for all the world like they had to sound rhapsodic — as if freely, spontaneously conceived. Reading through the pages of each rhapsody, Schmitt’s originality caused me to think of asking my friend in the next studio, John Gates, to sight-read all three with me. 

To his credit, John did — but then declared that he wouldn’t want to learn the music (“It would take too long,” he stated as I recall). I think it’s fair to surmise that he loathed the music because the notes didn’t come right off the page. (John’s resignation from the Butler faculty lay only a few months away, too.) 

PLN:  So then you needed to find another interested pianist to play and perform them with you. Who did you approach next?

First recording of Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies — and the only one available for nearly four decades: Robert and Gaby Casadesus on Columbia Masterworks (1956).

FEC:  Initially I stashed the score on its shelf, but the music nagged at me. It was then that I spotted the [Robert and Gaby] Casadesus Columbia LP in the Schwann record catalogue, which I promptly ordered. 

Martin Marks, whose studio was down the hall, liked multi-voiced music but was no sight-reader. A good pianist, however, Martin was a tireless worker when he decided to play anything. At the time we weren’t actually planning a recital.  But the Casadesus record arrived and we listened to it together in my studio, in all of its splendor. That’s when we decided we had to play it. 

It took several months of preparation before we could try playing the Rapsodies together. When we did, both of us really liked how it sounded and the challenges the music presented. 

PLN:  When compared to other music written for two pianos, were there qualities of this score that you considered particularly noteworthy, or possibly even unique?

FEC:  Sensual counterpoint was new to us. That, plus Schmitt’s effective use of the whole keyboard, brought us to a high level of commitment. 

Premiere recording: Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, with soprano Denise Duval, released in the United States in 1953 on the Angel Records label.

As to whether the end result might be good, we could not know, never having had any guide to Schmitt’s piano music before then. The only reference to any other Schmitt was our ears ringing from the only available recording of Psaume 47. (Incidentally, Schmitt’s Psalm impresses me as one of the most splendid choral works of the entire last century, and that first recording with Duval and Tzipine is the one that, in my opinion, has never been surpassed.) 

PLN:  What inspired you to want to introduce this music to concert audiences, considering how obscure it was?

The Schwann Long Playing Record Catalog from May 1960, the month that both the Casadesus/Columbia and the Psaume XLVII/Angel recordings went out of print, being dropped from subsequent issues of the publication.

FEC:  Martin was no adventurer when it came to programming — but I was. Together, though, we determined to introduce the suite to the Indianapolis audience. With followers and fans who were keen to attend our concerts, there was little risk that people wouldn’t come to hear whatever we offered them. 

We were curious to find out whether we could put across the music — to successfully communicate what we found in it — to the public. 

PLN:  When you and Martin Marks were preparing the piece, where there any special challenges that you faced during the rehearsal process? 

FEC:  Certainly. Neither of us liked rigid rhythms — and definitely not in music such as this. One particular problem is that flexing rhythms require would-be performers to have good eye contact. We concluded that each of us had to learn our parts in such ways as to allow for frequent eye contact. 

PLN:  What was the audience reaction to this music when you presented it in recital?

Curtain call for pianists Frank Cooper and Martin Marks at the October 8, 1967 recital that featured a presentation of Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies, along with other rarely-heard two-piano music by Germaine Tailleferre and Darius Milhaud.

FEC:  Although I don’t recall any particular comments made by audience members following the concert, I think the applause at the end demonstrated that they enjoyed hearing the Rapsodies. 

But bear in mind that when we played this piece, no one — literally no one — knew the music. It’s always more of a challenge to wow an audience when people are hearing something for the very first time. 

PLN:  When you performed this music in recital in 1967, it may well have been the first time the piece had been presented in the United States in decades.  Did you include Trois rapsodies in any subsequent recitals with Martin Marks or with another pianist?

FEC:  No, that was the only time. 

PLN:  Beyond Trois rapsodies, have you studied or performed other piano scores by Florent Schmitt?

FEC:  I have read through some solo piano pieces by Schmitt, but not with an eye toward performing them.  

PLN:  Do you feel that Florent Schmitt made an important contribution to the French piano repertoire? 

FEC:  It’s difficult to reckon such a thing when Schmitt’s music is hardly repertoire material. If more of it were performed regularly by pianists, there’s a chance that it might be. Unfortunately, many pianists and music-lovers, even today, don’t know of his existence. It doesn’t help that the entire field of musicology is being transmuted into ethno-studies now. 

But I am pleased to see that there are now several additional recordings of Trois rapsodies since the Casadesus was made; a half-century can make quite a difference.

_____________________ 

A 1967 publicity photo of pianists Martin Marks and Frank Cooper.

It is fortunate that we have audio documentation of a live performance of Florent Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies from a time when the music was an extreme rarity, with no performance tradition at all. To be able to dip back more than a half-century in time to listen to that interpretation — and to talk with the pianist who came across the score and resolved to present the music to the public — is a special treat indeed.

You can listen to that 1967 recital here, courtesy of Helen Moritz’s fine YouTube channel featuring noteworthy live piano performances from yesteryear. The Schmitt Rapsodies begin at approximately minute-marker 5:30.

A very dapper Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time he composed his Quatre pièces, Op. 25.

Like many composers who came of age during the late 1800s, French composer Florent Schmitt’s formative years were influenced by the prevailing musical currents of the day. In the case of Schmitt, Schumann was an early influence, as was Wagner. But by the time Schmitt entered the Paris Conservatoire in 1888, other influences were making themselves felt as well – including César Franck.

Cesar Franck (1822-1890)

Although Franck was appointed a professor at the Paris Conservatoire in 1872, in many respects he represented a distinct contrast to the other teachers there. The chromaticism of Franck’s music (as well as the music of Franck’s disciples including Ernest Chausson and Henri Duparc), related as it was to the chromaticism of Wagner, held a special appeal to Schmitt and other French composers who shared a general disdain for the Parisian operatic tradition.

The piece by Florent Schmitt which reflects most pointedly a musical debt to Franck is his Piano Quintet, which the composer worked on during his residency at the Villa Medici following winning the Prix de Rome first prize for composition in 1900. The Piano Quintet was created over a six-year period beginning in 1902, and the resulting large-scale composition (nearly an hour in duration) is a work that owes much to Franck’s own essay in the genre, dating from 1879.

Another work by Schmitt that resides in the Franckian mold as well – albeit a much less herculean endeavor — is Quatre pièces, Op. 25 for violin and piano. This composition was likewise composed at the Villa Medici — in 1901 during Schmitt’s first year of residency there. No doubt, Schmitt was positively affected by the rich artistic environment in which he found himself, which inspired him to bring forth a steady stream of new creations ranging from solo and duo-piano music to chamber pieces and orchestral works.

The first page of Florent Schmitt’s score for Quatre pièces. The first piece in the suite, titled Lied, was dedicated to Maurice Caplet, a conductor who was the brother of Schmitt’s fellow-composer André Caplet.

The camaraderie of the musicians, artists and architects who resided at the Villa Medici was palpable, and resulted in many lifelong friendships. This photograph from Florent Schmitt’s days at the Villa Medici shows him playing piano duets with fellow-composer André Caplet (1878-1925, to Schmitt’s right).

When one examines this body of work, it quickly becomes evident that Schmitt was experimenting with various musical styles as he sought to find his own unique voice — which would come soon enough. In some of Schmitt’s early Prix de Rome pieces, the influence of Massenet and Fauré can be discerned, while in others the writing is more chromatic. Still other works exhibit hints of impressionism.

The culmination of Schmitt’s burst of creative energy in Rome was the monumental Psaume XLVII of 1904, in which the composer created a brilliant work for chorus and orchestra that exploited grandiose musical structures found quite rarely in French music. It’s no wonder that upon hearing the Psaume at its Paris premiere in December 1906, some music critics lauded the composer as “The New Berlioz.”

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, because early on in his Prix de Rome period, Schmitt’s compositions had not yet reached this level of invention and uniqueness. A prime early example is the Quatre pièces — a suite for violin and piano comprised of four movements, as follows:

• Lied
• Nocturne
• Sérénade
• Barcarolle

The musicologist Constantine Carambelas-Sgourdas describes the Lied movement, which was dedicated to Maurice Caplet (an orchestra conductor who was the brother of the composer André Caplet), as paying tribute to German art songs of the late 19^th century, but in a “very French way.” The piano accompanies a gorgeous cantabile violin line that enters in mid-phrase, and whose singing quality is “emphatically lyrical.”

Teresina Tua (1866-1956). Maddalena Maria Teresa Tua was a prominent Italian violinist — a child prodigy who concertized from the age of seven. She attended the Paris Conservatoire, winning the Grand Prix for violin performance in 1880. Her European tours were highly acclaimed, but an 1887 tour of the United States was a critical failure. At the time Florent Schmitt dedicated the Nocturne movement from Quatre pièces to Mlle. Tua, she was nearing retirement from touring. After marrying twice and losing two children in their early years, Teresina Tua joined a convent near Rome in 1940, where she died 16 years later at the age of ninety.

The more ruminative Nocturne, in 6/8 time, pays a musical debt to Gabriel Fauré – Florent Schmitt’s favorite teacher at the Paris Conservatoire – as well as to Chopin. Schmitt dedicated this movement of his suite to the Italian violinist Teresina Tua, a renowned international concert artist who had taken all of Europe by storm (the United States less so).

The dancelike Sérénade that follows, written in 3/8 time, is light and sunny, and it features exchanges between the violin and piano that are reminiscent of Franck’s 1886 Violin Sonata. The Sérénade was dedicated to the Parisian musician Henri Schikel.

Like the Nocturne, the final Barcarolle is a fine example of poignancy and refinement. With its chromaticism and ¾ time rocking rhythm, the music gives the impression of a Venetian boat swaying in the lapping waves. Appropriately, Schmitt dedicated this movement of the suite to an Italian friend, Luigi Monachesi.

Being an early work by Schmitt, it is completely understandable that Quatre pièces doesn’t exhibit the degree of originality that characterizes the music that would flow from the composer’s pen a few short years later. Even so, the four movements of the suite are charming and adventuresome on their own terms.

Are there imperfections in the score? Some think so — and one such perspective comes from British music critic and author Roger Nichols who has written these words about the piece:

“The Four Pieces by Florent Schmitt … belong absolutely to the Franck camp in their thick texture and chromatic habits. Unfortunately, Schmitt did not follow Franck in interspersing such texture with breathing spaces (both instruments play almost all the time), nor does he demonstrate Franck’s wonderful melodic gift. Instead, just as we think we’re arriving at a stopping place … the expected concord turns chromatic à la Wagner, and off we go again.”

[Speaking personally, I am not in agreement with Nichols; in my opinion, the major themes and melodies in Schmitt’s suite are every bit as memorable as what we hear in Franck’s compositions.]

Romanian violinist and composer Georges Enescu (1881-1955).

Among the earliest champions of this music was the violinist-composer Georges Enescu, who even performed the piece with the composer at the piano at a Société Nationale concert in 1913. But as an early work in the Schmitt catalogue — and therefore not very representative of the composer’s mature voice — Quatre pièces went for more than a century without receiving its first commercial recording. Then, suddenly there were three recordings that appeared in short order.

What those three recordings reveal is highly attractive music that is also surprisingly meaty – and certainly worthy of the attention that the piece is receiving at long last.

First recording (Favier/Daudet, 2013).

The first two of the recordings were made nearly contemporaneously – so close together that the second one erroneously billed itself as the “premiere” recording when it was released.  Actual pride of place for the premiere goes to the recording made by violinist Amanda Favier and pianist Célimène Daudet. Working in collaboration with Palazzetto Bru Zane, they recorded the piece in March 2013 and it was released on the Arion label, coupled with music by a number of other early 20^th century composers including André Caplet, Lili Boulanger, Eugène Cools, Lucien Durosoir and several others.

Second recording (Halska/Chaiquin, 2014).

Some months later (February 2014), violinist Beata Halska-Le Monnier and pianist Claudio Chaiquin recorded Quatre pièces as part of an album devoted to violin/piano compositions that Schmitt created over a half-century period, including also Chant du soir (1895), Scherzo vif (1913), the Sonate libre (1919) and Habeyssée (1947). The Halska/Chaiquin recording, released by NAXOS, has benefited greatly from that label’s extensive international distribution.

Most recent recording (Mezzena/Ballario, 2019).

Most recently, violinist Franco Mezzena and pianist Elena Ballario recorded Quatre pièces  in 2019. Coupled with the violin sonatas of Franck and Debussy, that recording was released in 2021 by Odradek Records.

All three of the recorded performances are highly effective interpretations, even as the artists exhibit some variations in their approach. Mezzena/Ballario and Favier/Daudet are a bit more broadly expansive compared to the Halska/Chaiquin reading (particularly in the two middle movements of the suite) – interpretations which may preferable to some listeners. Speaking personally, each recording has its own merits and I wouldn’t want to be without any of them.

Moreover, I’m very pleased that three fine recordings have been made of this music within the span of just six years, finally giving voice to a piece that had been nearly forgotten for so many decades. Its newfound exposure on recordings can only mean that attention will be paid to the piece in the recital hall as well.

… And why not? Quatre pièces is a fine composition, and each of its movements are charming miniatures that work well as a group or played individually. There’s no reason why the music shouldn’t find a place in the violin repertoire.

Violinist Beata Halsak-Le Monnier and pianist Claudio Chaiquin perform the music of Florent Schmitt at the studies of France Musique (2015).

To give you a taste, here is a link to a live performance of the first movement of Quatre pièces (the Lied), as performed live in 2016 by Beata Halska and Claudio Chaiquin at the studios of France-Musique. The entire suite can also be heard from the Halska/Chaiquin commercial recording here, courtesy of Philippe Louis’ YouTube music channel.

Henri-Franck Beaupérin

Recently, French conductor Fabien Gabel returned to the Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse to lead a concert of music by composers from the 19th and early 20th centuries.  The choice of repertoire was interesting in that it had a distinctly “Salome-centric” cast — featuring the music of Florent Schmitt and Richard Strauss.  But the concert also included works by Engelbert Humperdinck and Franz Liszt — the latter piece being Liszt’s large-scale Fantasy and Fugue on “Ad nos, ad salutarem undam” for solo organ featuring Henri-Franck Beaupérin at the console.

Charlotte Ginot-Slacik

For such an unusual program, an interesting question was  the strategy employed in putting it together.  It was precisely that strategy that author and dramaturge Charlotte Ginot-Slacik sought to find out when she interviewed the Maestro in the month preceding the concert.  Gabel’s remarks were published in the September-December issue of Vivace ! magazine.

For those who can read French, the original article is reproduced below.  For others, an English translation of the interview follows.

FROM SALOMÉ TO SALOMÉ:  TOWARDS A FRENCH SCHOOL

An interview with Fabien Gabel.

Established as one of the privileged guest directors of the Orchestre National du Capitole, the French conductor Fabien Gabel returns this new season with a shimmering program under the theme “femme fatale.”  An interview with this passionate advocate for French music (but not only French):

CG-S:  The program you have chosen for October is definitely off the beaten track. How did you build it, and what connects these composers and these works?

The 1907 stage production, reworked by Florent Schmitt for large orchestra several years later.

FG:  The Salomé of Richard Strauss and Florent Schmitt have an obvious link. Both date from the same period: 1905 for Strauss and 1911 for the composition that Schmitt drew from his ballet originally mounted in 1907. Beyond their common theme, there is also the question of orientalism – sometimes German, sometimes French – and particularly eruptive in the case of Schmitt.

For the rest of the concert, I had to think about a piece that features the organ – which is not so easy to accomplish, considering that the repertoire for this instrument with symphonic forces is quite small. The figure of Liszt loomed large — especially since Strauss was stationed in Weimar in the 1880s, the city ​​where Liszt had lived for a long time. For the Königskinder of Humperdinck, it was Wagner, Liszt’s close friend, who helped create that link, since Humperdinck was Wagner’s assistant. So in that sense the musical connection to Liszt works.

CG-S:  Two visions of Salomé dialogue here: on one side is the famous figure brought to the opera stage by Strauss, the other that of Florent Schmitt, created nearly contemporaneously. What do you see in these works?

Igor Stravinsky (l.), photographed with Florent Schmitt in about 1910.

FG:  The “Dance of the Seven Veils” by Strauss is undoubtedly better known than Schmitt’s piece. We know how much Strauss’s Salome remodeled the lyrical landscape of the twentieth century. But the piece by Schmitt, although less known, represents the face of modernity. Completed a few months before Le Sacre du printemps of Stravinsky, the piece was dedicated to that composer, who was particularly honored by the dedication.

I am always struck by the work’s size — epic, incandescent — which transports us to a Biblical Judea. Today we recognize how much this work influenced Le Sacre through its rhythms, its power, and by its very frightening dimensions. This Salomé freezes our blood!

CG-S:  How do you explain the fascination with the story of Salomé at the turn of the century?

FG:  It seems to me that the story relates to lust – to the “forbidden” – which is what shocked people. Oscar Wilde’s play was deemed “pornographic” in its time. Irresistible to musicians, the music they created was precisely to defy the prohibitions — to provoke — with such a subject.

CG-S:  What excites you about Schmitt’s music?

FG:  First, its harmonic language. Schmitt suffered by having survived long past Ravel and Debussy, and after the Second World War his music was considered old-fashioned by the young avant-garde. This, despite the fact that he had been a great defender and friend of premier modernist personalities such as Schoenberg, but he also paid for his ambiguous political position during the war and risky declarations against some composers.

The score to Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, inscribed by conductor Fabien Gabel and soprano Karina Gauvin (2019 performance in Québec City, Canada).

Even so, Schmitt remains one of the acknowledged masters of the orchestra of his time, and his capacity for evolution is fascinating. Take Psaume XLVII for example: The work begins in a language inspired by the 19th century – even pompous in its own way – and yet it ends with incredibly modern speech, in the colors of the 20th century. All throughout his life, Schmitt never stopped evolving and continually questioning the musical language.

CG-S:  After performing Roussel with the Orchestre du Capitol last year, it seems you have a heartfelt desire to showcase all French music rather than just the iconic works …

FG:  No matter how much I love the great French masterpieces, French music cannot be summed up in just five works by Ravel and Debussy! I believe in defending this musical heritage in all of its diversity.

CG-S:  How do you characterize the challenges of bringing this repertoire to the concert hall?

FG:  First by the fact that French composers did not provide us with a body of symphonic works in the Germanic or Russian sense of the term. The surge of works by composers like Mahler or Shostakovich marginalized the diversity of French music — then by the gap between its “surface” image and the fact that the music actually requires vast in-depth study.

We now have musicians including François-Xavier Roth, Alain Altinoglu, etc., as well as the Bru Zane Foundation at work on this — plus a whole generation of instrumentalists who have worked with those who were personally connected to the era. As a young trumpeter, I studied with a teacher who had played under the direction of Ravel, for example.

What is very effective is to thematize things – mix aesthetics, styles, and national schools as a means of arousing curiosity. Explore the Pelléas et Mélisande by Schoenberg, Fauré and Sibelius, for instance.

CG-S:  You are one of the masters today of what one might call the “French School.” How do you describe that school in in terms of colors, orchestration — genres even? Can we discern a common thread at the turn of the 20th century?

FG:  It’s a difficult question! First to the term “French school”: It designates French composers from the beginning of the Twentieth century – or let’s say from the time of Debussy. That’s because Berlioz did not really create a French “school,” and the last part of the 19th century was dominated by Wagner.  The true rupture with the Germanic style was carried out by Debussy, Fauré and Ravel.

If I had to define French music, I would speak of “colors.” In terms of timbres, the use of winds in French orchestras was unmatched in Europe at that time. However, we must beware of clichés! For German music, it is the idea of “depth” that is often used to characterize it, but I also feel a lot of depth in the score to Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé, for example.

For French music, it’s the idea of ​​an ethereal sound that is typically a characterization.  But anyone who listens to the Pelléas et Mélisande of Debussy will hear a very dense orchestral sound – in places even as dense as Wagner’s Parsifal!

The second term that comes to mind is that of “punctuation,” which derives from the French language itself. French composers often indicate very precise punctuation, particularly forcefully, which can pose problems for non-French musicians — even if musical globalization is reducing this challenge.

And finally, of course, the musical painting. A simple example: take a score of Debussy and you will see a picture. Then take a Mahler score, and you will see problems!

When the composer Florent Schmitt died in August 1958 at the age of nearly 88 years, many prominent musicians, scholars and journalists wrote words of tribute honoring the last of the “grand generation” of French composers that had included, among others, Debussy, Dukas, Ravel, Roussel, Koechlin, Pierné, Rabaud and Tournemire.

Henri Dutilleux (1916-2013)

Along those lines, this tribute from a composer of the younger generation — Henri Dutilleux — succinctly captured the essence of Schmitt’s artistry:

“Florent Schmitt was the last of that great family to which Ravel, Dukas and Debussy belong. He remains one of those who, by a happy assimilation of German or Central European influences, brought the French school back to certain notions of grandeur.”

The 1953 biography of Florent Schmitt by Yves Hucher.

But we also have observations of a more personal nature that came from Yves Hucher (1914-2001), the French musicologist who in 1953 authored what remains to this day the most extensive biography of Florent Schmitt — a volume that is nearly 300 pages in length.

Two years following the composer’s death, Hucher would follow up with another book, published in collaboration with Durand et Cie., focusing on the composer’s extensive catalogue of works and also including information about late-career compositions the composer had brought forth in the five years following the release of the first biography.

The 1960 Hucher book, published by Durand.

Hucher, who was just 37 years old when he first met Florent Schmitt and only 39 when his 1953 biography was published, was clearly awed by the composer and his accomplishments.  While not hagiographical exactly, Hucher’s writings about Schmitt are the product of someone who harbored a deep respect for the musician as well as the man.  It is also clear that Hucher was troubled by what he felt was insufficient acknowledgement of Schmitt’s artistic legacy.

In the weeks and months following Schmitt’s death, articles about the composer appeared in various European publications. Among them were items published in Le Monde (authored by René Dumesnil), Musica disques (Antoine Goléa, né Siegfried Goldman), plus Le Guide du concert et du disque and Feuilles musicales (Revue musical romande et courrier suisse du disque).

These last two were authored by Yves Hucher, and what makes them particularly valuable is how Hucher gives us glimpses of “Schmitt the man” as much as he writes about the musical legacy of the composer.

The shorter of the two Hucher articles was a single-page tribute that appeared in Le Guide du concert et du disque in which the author recounts how he came to meet Schmitt personally in 1951, leading to preparing and publishing the composer’s biography two years later.  Here is that article as it originally appeared in the magazine:

For those who do not read French, an English translation of Hucher’s article follows below:

In Memoriam:  Florent Schmitt

— Yves Hucher, Le Guide du concert et du disque, September 26, 1958

We asked our collaborator, Yves Hucher, for some recollections about Florent Schmitt. But the person who remains, after Pierre-Octave Ferroud, the chief biographer of Florent Schmitt, could not deign to write merely an impersonal article falling within the scope of music criticism. So close to a master who had touched him personally, Hucher has instead given us a few intimate recollections that Le Guide is pleased to publish: 

One Sunday in December 1951, Le Théâtre du Châtelet was buzzing with attentive and enthusiastic young people who had come together for the educational concerts of the Association des Concerts Colonne. The concert ended with a hearing of La Tragédie de Salomé, already presented the previous Sunday and whose power of evocation overwhelmed our youthful audience — only a little disappointed not to be able to acclaim Florent Schmitt in person. 

But this morning, the good news spread in the room reaches us: The composer is here! While following Gaston Poulet, who conducts, I feel some trepidation:  I do not know Florent Schmitt personally, but I know how much he is an enemy of “commentary” made about his work.  And I, drawing the parallel between Flaubert and him, dread hearing one of those jokes for which he is so known. 

Violinist and Conductor Gaston Poulet (1892-1974)

“Let’s go!” says Poulet to the musicians; I take my share of this encouragement and, glancing at the box where I see Florent Schmitt furtively seated, I open, for the now-fully attentive young audience, the score of Salomé. 

The overwhelming ovation that the hall and the entire orchestra gave the musician has just ended. I speak with Poulet while already young men and women approach. “Do you think he’ll give me an autograph?” one of them asks me. I don’t have time to answer before a hand rests on my arm. “I really liked your parallel; you will bring it to me at my place, I hope.” And then a little more animated, Florent Schmitt adds, “I did not come last Sunday; I could not — La Tragédie was also given at Pasdeloup in the evening, and it is music that I cannot hear twice on the same day … “ 

* * *

Florent Schmitt, photographed at his worktable in the study of his home in St-Cloud (July 1937). (©Boris Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

A year later, towards the end of an icy morning, I arrive at Florent Schmitt’s home. It is a pleasant habit we’ve taken up since he invited me to come and chat with him at noon. He is at his little worktable from where he could if he wished, leaning over a little, watch for a reflection of the Seine River. But instead he continues to work diligently as he has done all morning. He abandons his pencil, grabs the eraser or his scraper. “One more moment,” he says to me, “but have mercy on this apéritif which awaits you.” 

I immerse myself in the papers I have brought him and suddenly he is there, next to me, handing me the box of cigarettes he loves. And now we are working. I show him the outline of what will become the chapter devoted to the musical criticism that he contributed to Le Temps for ten years — the only chapter [of the biography] that he will ask me to modify. We are talking about those whose music he loves and never ceases to defend: Barraud, Bondeville, Le Flem, Daniel-Lesur, Tomasi, Mihalovici, Delage, Martelli, Loucheur and others. “Here!” he says to me, “I have copied a few lines that must have escaped you. You can do what you wish with them.” 

In the manuscript that I keep preciously — and where Florent Schmitt corrected only the unnecessary capitalizations which he hated — I can find this sheet, piously preserved, where his hand ran with an alert, nervous and tight pen …

A more extensive retrospective about Florent Schmitt was prepared by Yves Hucher for the December 1958 issue of Feuilles musicales, the French-language monthly music magazine published in Switzerland (and connected to L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande).  This four-page article goes into some detail about Schmitt’s biography, his musical output and artistic legacy — while also providing additional glimpses into his persona.

Here is that article as it originally appeared in the magazine:

Again, for those who do not read French, here is Hucher’s article as translated into English:

Florent Schmitt:  A Grand French Musician

— Yves Hucher, Feuilles musicales, December 1958

The birthplace of Florent Schmitt, Blâmont, France.

Florent Schmitt was born in Blâmont, in Meurthe-et-Moselle, on September 28, 1870.  He was a pupil in Nancy of Henry Hess and Gustave Sandré, then entered the Paris Conservatoire in 1889 and worked in the classes of Lavignac, Gédalge, Massenet and Fauré.

The Prix de Rome first prize for composition was awarded to him in 1900 for his cantata Sémiramis, but already very independent, the composer remained at the Villa Medici only for “just the time needed to meet the regulations” — instead traveling throughout Europe and as far as the Middle East. From this time forward he composed voluminously and, from that date his life merges with the story of his work. 

Schmitt was for a short time director of the Lyon Conservatoire and for ten years, from 1929 to 1939, was a music critic for the newspaper Le Temps. Elected a member of L’Institut on January 25, 1936 by the Académie des Beaux-Arts for the chair left vacant by the death of Paul Dukas, Florent Schmitt had also been a member of the S.M.I. (Société Musicale Indépendante), and since 1938 presided over the destinies of the Société nationale de musique. The Music Prize of the City of Paris was awarded to him in 1957. Florent Schmitt was also a Commander of the Légion d’honneur. 

This is what anthologies and dictionaries will teach us a few years from now about the man who was — and remains — one of France’s greatest musicians. But before attempting to say what his work was and what the artist was, can we not seek to evoke the man?

Florent Schmitt wore elegantly, so to speak, his medium height; with his bow tie in disarray, he watched carefully those he did not know coming from afar.  This precaution did not spoil his friendships, his confidence or his admiration; he was unfailingly faithful because he possessed to high degree this simplicity of the true “big masters.” 

He had a quick, sharp and sometimes biting intellect, but I never heard a word from him that intended to hurt. He hated questions and interviews: “I have done my work; I don’t have to speak about it, I am not a docent.” So this simple and even shy man – who at concerts only got up to greet the public after much hesitation so as not to steal the limelight from the performers – thus separated the importunate and discouraged, not without reason, of those who did not possess the “sacred fire.” 

But to others — to those who had faith — what services has he not rendered! One of the musicians of the younger generation, Henri Dutilleux, expresses himself as follows on this subject: 

“Sometimes brutal in his critiques, incapable of concessions, he does us all good by his frankness. ”

And the signatory of these pages, who combated his natural reservation and was his biographer, could take on his own account these few words.  

Pierre Capdevielle (1906-1969)

But to those who would think that my admiration is dictated by a grateful friendship, I want to address that with two quotes — two judgments made by musicians regarding one of their colleagues.

Pierre Capdevielle’s first of all: 

“If the musician’s work has the beauty and the brilliance of a diamond, I also know that his heart and his soul have the most absolute purity.” 

Raymond Loucheur (1899-1979) (1955 photo)

And Raymond Loucheur, the current director of the Paris Conservatoire, who characterized Florent Schmitt as follows:   

“Ardent, generous, muscular, nervous, laden with blood, salt, tenderness, irony, love, anger, built for eternity, such as it is; such is his work worthy of the most fervent admiration. “ 

Finally, even in his impatience, there was reflected in the artist the dream of the poet. Wasn’t it Schmitt saying to a friend who was driving him in the car one day on the Place de la Concorde’s wisely respected roundabouts: “When will you be finished? I’m sure if we were on a plane, you would go ’round every star!” 

Such was the man; such also was the artist, incapable of baseness, repulsed at the idea of ​​a concession — demanding for himself while also expecting of musical interpreters the maximum of effort, work, and especially respect for the score. 

But if Schmitt’s catalog reached 138 works, it is not that the creator manifested impatience, but rather worked tirelessly with the care of an artisan, the patience of a Benedictine, and the courage of one who is truly inspired. Here is his profession of faith (but stated always in the ironic tone that he gave to even the most serious matters): 

“One cannot be a mercenary and at the same time an artist, and I do not understand why we consider music a profession. First of all, even making bad music is a difficult business; it is better to take care of the market — even if it is a black market, it’s more honest … “ 

Also, at his little worktable where we often surprised him in his hours spent in patient and fruitful labor, we can still hear his exclamation: 

“Half past twelve already? Not possible! What have I have accomplished this morning? I erased … but I also found a nice solution …” 

Through his work, the artist consoles himself with the “sad joke that is life.” And this is why some have compared Schmitt to Gustave Flaubert. The great novelist once said: “I love my work with a frenzied and perverted love — like an ascetic loves the hair shirt which itches his stomach. ” To which Schmitt might reply: “Why rush to orchestrate? There’s no more delectable work, so it is best to take your time.” 

We must now say a few words about the oeuvre which, in the context of a single article, is a delicate matter. Florent Schmitt’s output is indeed so remarkable for its richness of inspiration, its plenitude and its diversity, that it is very difficult to give a brief notion — even approximate — without studying it in detail. 

This challenge is further complicated by a fact that confronts all commentators: The work of Florent Schmitt, always equal to itself, never denies itself. One could say “the author of La Tragédie de Salomé or the Psaume,” but in truth everything deserves to be known and performed, from the Opus 1 of 1891 to his Opus 138 which the composer completed a few weeks before his death. 

However, to say only a word or two about works subsequent to 1900 — these are mainly works for the piano (Soirs, Op. 5, Musiques intimes, Op. 15) and vocal works. Indeed, this born orchestrator — one of the musicians to have best exploited the possibilities of instruments and therefore one of the very best of orchestrators — leaves nothing to hint at this talent before his Opus 38, the Psaume. This work, dating from 1906, [sic] is an explosion of joy and fire bracketing a meditation on oriental sensuality where the soprano takes up the theme of the solo violin, while the choirs pose a new motif before languishing in a serene and distant vocalization. And the work ends in the grandiose key of C major, kept carefully in reserve until that moment. 

Florent Schmitt confers with Robert Blot, conductor of the musical forces in the Paris Opéra Ballet’s revival of La Tragédie de Salomé in December 1954.

Aside this immortal masterpiece we can place La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50, from 1907 in the version for small orchestra and 1911 [sic] in its recasting for large orchestra. The mimed drama is still in the repertoire of the National Theater of the Opéra, but the music is sufficient in itself as great pages of contemporary music. The major sections are the Prélude, Dance des perles, Les Enchantments sur la mer, Danse des éclairs and Danse de l’effroi. 

The distant past of the Orient attracted Florent Schmitt and we have often recognized its evocative power — the power and sensuality of its large frescoes — which is why his other best-known orchestral works include Antoine et Cléopâtre (1920), Salammbô (1927) [sic] and Oriane la Sans-Égale [Oriane et le Prince d’Amour] (1932) [sic]. 

But we should be careful not to forget so many other parts of the catalogue that are less ample of proportions but no less rich in invention of all kinds: the delicate series of small miniatures titled Enfants, the moving In Memoriam written in tribute to Gabriel Fauré, the sparkling Suite sans esprit de suite, the delicious and evocative Petit elfe Ferme-l’oeil, based on a tale by Andersen, the realistic Scènes de la vie moyenne. 

The same richness and diversity exist the works of vocal music that Florent Schmitt seemed inspired to write as a break from his other, more absorbing works — but where likewise he applies the best of his creative and inventive mind to his writing:  Chansons à quatre voix, Quatre lieds, Six choeurs for female voices, Trois trios, En bonnes voix, A contre-voix, De vives voix, etc. There exists an inexhaustible trove of the most diverse works, ideal for choruses all over the world! 

Richness and diversity also abound in the pages that Florent Schmitt devoted to chamber music. These are splendid, delicate or intimate inspirations: Here is the wonderful Légende for viola and piano, and Habeyssée for violin and piano, whose title-pun is a characteristic deception by the composer to camouflage the perfectly regular [A-B-C] structure of a “suite.”  

But what we find at the summit of this production are the Sonate libre en deux parties enchainées for violin and piano (1918-19), the Piano Quintet (1910) [sic], the String Trio (1946) [sic] and the String Quartet (1947) [sic]. We cannot undertake an analysis of these monuments of contemporary chamber music except to speak of their common characteristic: the science of instrumental writing which enabled Florent Schmitt to convey, employing just three, four or five instruments, the impression of the sound of an entire orchestra. 

Faced with such a legacy, our readers could be forgiven for asking this question: Why isn’t the work of this musician better known — more “global”? Why isn’t its reputation as great as that of Honegger or Stravinsky?  

The Pasquier Trio

Speaking frankly, the answer is this:  The music of Florent Schmitt is not easily executed.  The Pasquier Trio worked on preparing the String Trio for a full year, and if the “great” virtuosos do not wish to know the Symphonie concertante for piano and orchestra, it is because the piece falls less well under the fingers than Tchaikovsky’s concerto! 

Another reason is that Florent Schmitt founded no “school”; he was too independent in character and spirit to be a good “teacher” even as he maintained many musician friendships. 

This same strength — the same wealth, the same diversity, the same bold density — has by no means aged in his musical output; indeed what is striking about the music is its astonishing youth. 

Two pages from Florent Schmitt’s handwritten manuscript of his Psaume XLVII. The 128-page manuscript was prepared at the Villa Medici in Rome.

There is an explanation for this – that which can be easily overlooked but which the dates prove: Florent Schmitt was, at the dawn of our twentieth century, the most daring, the most brilliant innovator —  standing at equal distance between the influence of Wagner and that of Debussy. Florent Schmitt gave us the Psaume in 1906, a major event in the history of French music.  The Ariane et Barbe-bleu of Dukas is from 1907, Daphnis et Chloé of Ravel is from 1912; L’Oiseau de feu and Pétrouchka by Stravinsky are from 1910 and 1911. Likewise coming later, the great works of Arthur Honegger.  The dates speak for themselves. 

As for the secret to Schmitt’s innovative power and personality, I believe I discovered it in the conversations I had with the one who would shudder with horror whenever people called him Master — “This name,” he would say, “being the privilege of the wolf, the raven and the fox …”

The secret, I think, comes down to three words: “Work in independence.”  Far from chapels, schools and all the “isms”, Florent Schmitt worked, so to speak, with his pencil and his eraser to bring forth an ideal of beauty and perfection.  May we recognize and remember it! 

We wish that the work of Florent Schmitt, superb in its independence, bold in its innovations, rich in its creative spirit and in its orchestral finery, will shine in France and beyond, radiating all the more and recalling in our midst the presence of one of the greatest French musicians of all time.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Yves Hucher for combining his prodigious knowledge of Schmitt’s musical career with personal recollections that could only come from a person who was fortunate to maintain a close personal relationship with the composer in the twilight years of his life.  Upon encountering these reflections and anecdotes more than 60 years on, several of Schmitt’s present-day champions have noted how they bring the composer “to life” in fresh and meaningful ways.

David Grandis

The Franco-American conductor David Grandis, who has presented Schmitt’s orchestral suite Soirs in concert in the United States, remarks:

“It is indeed very interesting — and rare — to hear about the man rather than merely the composer and his works.  I feel like I would have gotten along very well with Florent Schmitt; his is the type of personality I really admire, and which reminds me of some of my old professors back in France.”

Steven Kruger

The American music critic Steven Kruger weighs in with these thoughts:

“Florent Schmitt seems to have been a personality who found fame shallow and self-promotion vulgar — a man of quiet integrity, happy at his desk with his music paper, a pencil and an eraser, and someone given to the sort of ironic humor that thrives among introverts surveying the human parade. 

Hucher’s two tributes are very French, seeking to provide us with reassurance that Schmitt was not only an important composer, but one worthy of love and admiration — and a man of noble inspiration.  For all its complexity and difficulty, Schmitt’s music — sensuous, explosive, sarcastic and lyrical by turns (and sometimes all at once) — never sounds like the product of a megalomaniac.  You don’t listen to a piece by Schmitt and say to yourself as you might with Mahler, ‘Remember, it’s all about him’.” 

JoAnn Falletta

And the American conductor JoAnn Falletta, whose two NAXOS recordings with the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra devoted to the music of Florent Schmitt have garnered critical accolades worldwide, shares this observation:

“It is always fascinating to read about Florent Schmitt’s personality, friends, habits and lifestyle.  But for me, the striking independence, boldness and innovation of his work is truly who he was — a courageous and uncompromising genius.”

Come to think of it, perhaps that observation from Maestra Falletta should serve as the “final word” on Florent Schmitt and his artistic legacy.