Chant de guerre, a 1915 oil-on-canvas portrait of Florent Schmitt painted by Albert Gleizes, the famed cubist who created several portraits of the composer. This painting is the artist’s rendition of Schmitt conducting the premiere performance of Chant de guerre in Toul, Lorraine in January 1915.

One of the most artistically significant and vital projects to come out of the commemoration of the 100th anniversary of World War I is a group of 35 recordings published by Editions Hortus in its Musiciens et la Grande Guerre series.  These recordings have been issued over a five-year span – each one based on a theme and containing selections from a transnational group of composers.

The musical landscape covers both sides in the conflict (the Allies and the Central Powers) and embraces a wide range of instrumental and vocal forces. The music of no fewer than 120 composers is included in the series, with many of the pieces featuring instruments that would have been found at or near the front lines of the conflict.

Of particular interest to readers of the Florent Schmitt Website + Blog are two pieces by the French composer that are contained in the series – his Chant de guerre, Op. 63 (composed in 1914 and first performed in January 1915), and the Légende, Op. 66 (composed in 1918 and first performed in 1919 shortly after the war’s end).

Albéric Magnard (1865-1914)

Schmitt composed his Chant de guerre upon the outbreak of war between France and Germany in the fall of 1914.  It was a conflict that would soon sweep up nearly all of the younger generation of French musicians to one degree or another.

Schmitt was to spend two years at the front, as did other composers such as Maurice Ravel who famously served as an ambulance driver.  One of the most tragic consequences befell the composer Albéric Magnard, who was burned alive in his manor home in Oise — along with irreplaceable unpublished scores — upon orders of a German army officer after Magnard had shot and killed a soldier trespassing on his property.

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

Schmitt chose as the text for Chant de guerre a poem by a fellow Lorrainer — Léon Tonnelier — a poet and writer from Nancy.  As MusicWeb International reviewer Nick Barnard observes concerning the verse in Chant de guerre:

“The work sets a poem … which in heroically rousing terms calls Mother France to arms. This was early in the War, after all, when the perceptions of “the pity of war” were yet unformed. Schmitt’s skill is that the work does not descend into tub-thumping patriotism.”

The original score to Florent Schmitt’s Chant de guerre, published by Durand et Cie. (1915).

Having found the Chant de guerre recording particularly rewarding – and the entire Grande Guerre series for that matter – I made contact with Emmanuel Pélaprat, who had prepared the chamber arrangement of Schmitt’s composition for the Hortus recording (the composer’s original scoring is for large orchestra, solo vocalist and mixed men’s chorus), to learn more about the project and how it came together.

Emmanuel Pélaprat (Photo: ©L’Oiseleur)

Emmanuel Pélaprat is true renaissance musician.  He is a well-known advocate for harmonium d’art instruments, but he’s also a multi-faceted artist whose interests and activities go well-beyond simply that one instrument. A keyboard artist whose teachers have included Jan Willem Jansen (harpsichord) and Michel Bouvard (organ), he also studied music analysis at the famed Paris Conservatoire where he earned two diplomas and five Premiers Prix.

A researcher as well as a performer, Mr. Pélaprat has studied and written extensively about the French composers Aymé Kunc, Benjamin Godard and Florent Schmitt, and at present is completing his doctorate focusing on harmonium d’art music history and performance. He is also preparing a new edition of sheet music originally issued by harmonium instrument maker Mustel more than 100 years ago.

In addition to these activities, Emmanuel Pélaprat is a faculty member at the University of Bordeaux Montaigne, has répétiteur duties at several opera companies, and serves as an organist at the parish of Notre-Dame du Taur in Toulouse.

… All of which made me grateful that Mr. Pélaprat was able to take time to talk about the Grand Guerre project – and specifically about the pivotal role he played as artistic director of the particular volume that featured the premiere recording of Florent Schmitt’s Chant de guerre. Highlights of our very interesting discussion are presented below (Mr. Pelaprat’s remarks have been translated from French into English).

PLN: The series “Musicians and the Great War” by Editions Hortus that covers music related to the First World War is fascinating scholarship and makes for essential listening.  How was this project conceived?

EP: The project was initiated and carried out by Philippe d’Anchald and Didier Maes, the two gentlemen behind the Hortus publishing firm.  The centenary of the Great War sparked many commemorations throughout Europe in particular, and it was important that music should not remain on the sidelines during these events.  

The Great War also marked a turning point in the history of music in many diverse ways, and the series shows how important those changes were to music development and our musical language today.  

The collection is a unique production; nothing else like it has been carried out connected to the First World War. Because of its high standards of quality, it has garnered immediate and universal critical acclaim, including receiving the Label Centenaire award from the Mission du Centenaire [Mission du Centenaire de la Première Guerre mondiale], created by the French Government.

PLN: It’s interesting to see that some of the music recorded in the Grande Guerre series comes from well-established composers, whereas other composers are barely known.  How were the pieces researched and chosen to become part of the series?

EP: This is a central part of the mission of the project; it was essential to bring to the attention of the public music that’s never played or recorded, as compared to better-known scores. If the project had been focused on famous works, the series would not have had the importance – or the interest — that it has generated.   

Another important mission of the collection was to cover as much as possible the many nationalities of the composers in order to offer the widest possible panorama of music. This was a “world” war, after all.

PLN: Each of the 35 volumes in the series has a particular theme or focus.  How was this strategy formulated and implemented?

EP: The strategy was quite interesting – and also quite practical.  Each volume in the series was entrusted to a musician who took on the role of artistic director for that particular recording.  Generally, the repertoire in each recording is oriented around a particular instrument or instrumental formation.  Chamber music and vocal music with piano are the most represented genres, although other recordings range from solo keyboard instruments like the piano and organ all the way up to orchestral compositions. 

One of the successes of the series, I feel, is to have been able to involve so many different musicians – each of whom brought their own distinct personality to the realization of their particular recordings.

PLN: Florent Schmitt’s Chant de guerre appears in Volume 11. Can you tell us about this particular volume of the series, and its theme?

EP: Yes, I was the artistic producer for that recording.  When Hortus contacted me, they wanted to honor the harmonium – an instrument for which the music literature is abundant between the years 1900 and 1920. There was plenty of material to make a solo harmonium recording around the repertoire related to the Great War — but, apart from a relatively few compositions such as those by Sigrid Karg-Elert, solo harmonium works are pretty much confined to the realm of sacred music.  

Interestingly, the harmonium was originally conceived as a living room instrument, rather than one for the church. But because of its musical qualities, its success has been so great in church environments that today most people associate the harmonium with sacred music. 

Despite its church “reputation,” It should be pointed out that the majority of the repertoire for harmonium consists of transcriptions – often with piano but sometimes with other instruments. Back in the days before gramophone players, these sorts of transcriptions allowed for creating an “orchestra in the living room.”  Playing the symphonic repertoire in this fashion took on another, more broad dimension compared to the usual transcriptions for piano four hands, for instance.  

Jérôme Granjon

It was those expressive qualities of the harmonium that interested me greatly, and I wanted to put that forward in this volume of the series.  Having this freedom and variety — but staying in the tradition of transcriptions for the instrument — is what I created with my Ensemble Double Expression [Sandrine Chatron playing harp, Jérôme Granjon on piano, and Emmanuel Pélaprat on the harmonium] and in the pieces that make up the recording.

Florent Schmitt as a soldier during World War I. He would later write to his friend Igor Stravinsky, characterizing his participation in the war effort as “two less-than-amusing years of militarism.”

The disc opens with Chant de Guerre by Florent Schmitt and closes with a work by Aymé Kunc, a near-contemporary of Schmitt who won the Prix de Rome first prize for composition in 1902 (two years after Schmitt) — two men who were well-acquainted with one another. Kunc is a composer I have focused on for a long time now – a musician from Toulouse like me.

Kunc’s Pensée musicale, composed in 1916 for the war’s deceased musicians as memorialized at the Champs d’Honneur, is not the least bit heroic-sounding as it was scored by the composer for harp and orchestra.  In the version on our recording, the presence of the harp was melded with the piano, with the harmonium covering the orchestral parts.  The vocal part was also part of Kunc’s original score; it was written expressly as a soprano vocalise, in contrast to Schmitt’s Chant de guerre where the choice between using a solo tenor or soprano is left up to the performers. 

Illustrating this, the premiere performance of Schmitt’s piece at the Théâtre de Toul featured a tenor soloist, whereas the Paris Opéra premiere featured a soprano instead.  

Aymé Kunc (1877-1958)

As for the remaining works on the recording, the choice of pieces for solo harmonium was intended to be representative of the kind of secular music typically composed for it. So we have Karg-Elert, who was the most prolific composer for the harmonium.  He had composed a collection of eight harmonium pieces during the war years titled Innere Stimmen, which are very varied. 

In the case of the Belgian composer Joseph Jongen, here one finds a beautiful example of the religious repertoire that I mentioned before – in a piece titled In memoriam.  

At the center of the disc is the Pagine di Guerra by the Italian composer Alfredo Casella for piano four-hands.  These are in a very different, more modern musical language – conceived as they were to accompany documentary film footage from the front lines. 

PLN: As you’ve noted, your recorded rendition of Schmitt’s Chant de guerre calls for a different instrumentation from the composer’s original score. What was the rationale for preparing the alternative scoring?

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

EP: I would have liked to record the original version of the Chant de guerre, but it is a composition that requires a large orchestra, a vocal soloist and a men’s choir.  This was impractical to arrange, but I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to present this important piece for the first time on recordings.  Although I quite liked Schmitt’s own version of the piece for piano and vocalist, I decided to create a new transcription for the Ensemble Double Expression – in a style that could have easily been done back in the days of the First World War — because it provided an opportunity to present the piece in a character that is closer to Schmitt’s original conception of the music.

Sonia Sempéré (Photo: ©La Photoboutique/Cahors)

The basic principles of transcription writing are quite clear, and I’ve adhered to them here. The vocal lines are unchanged and given to the soprano, which was sung on our recording by Sonia Sempéré.  I’ve kept the harp part from Schmitt’s original orchestration nearly intact.  For the most part, the piano is a reduction of the string parts, while the harmonium takes charge of the woodwinds and brass.  In other words, not one note has been eliminated; only the original colors are different due to the change in instrumentation.

A comparison of three versions of Florent Schmitt’s Chant de guerre: Pictured above left are the beginning measures of the re-exposition in Schmitt’s 1914 full orchestral/choral version of the piece. Above right is the same place in the score showing the composer’s 1915 piano/vocal reduction.  Pictured below is Emmanuel Pélaprat’s transcription for soprano, harmonium, harp and piano — created 100 years later (2015).

PLN: What were your specific responsibilities pertaining to the preparation and recording of Chant de guerre?

A vintage Mustel harmonium (early 1900s).

EP: As the artistic director for the recording, in addition to concepting the program and preparing the musical transcriptions, I was responsible for organizing rehearsals with instruments that do not transport easily and that also involved performers who live between the South of France, Paris and Amsterdam.

There was also the challenge of the instruments themselves, which are period pieces. We used my own 1898 Mustel harmonium and my 1899 Érard grand piano.  We were successful in locating an older harp, too [a 1912 Érard model] – thanks to a friend of our harpist, Sandrine Chatron, who performed on this type of instrument for the very first time in our recording.

Sandrine Chatron

We recorded in the town of Cahors, where the mayor was kind enough to place the city’s auditorium at our disposal.

Lastly, I was responsible for the editing work before the finished recording was heard and validated by all the musicians.

It took time!

PLN: Did you have similar responsibilities for other pieces of music in the Grand Guerre series of recordings?

EP: No, I did not deal with other volumes in the series except occasionally to find and provide a score or discuss repertoire with the executive producers. I have, however, provided artistic direction and written program booklets for other Hortus recording projects.

PLN: Another composition of Florent Schmitt – the Légende – is included in Volume 7 of the series. This piece is usually performed with a saxophone soloist, but in this recording the solo instrument is a viola. What was the reason Hortus recorded the version containing the viola?

EP: Florent Schmitt composed the Légende in 1918 for alto saxophone and orchestra at the request of the American saxophonist Elise Hall (who also commissioned the Rhapsodie of Debussy). But in the published edition of the score, there is also mention of the solo viola — which even becomes the priority instrument so-labeled in the orchestral edition of the score that appeared in 1920: “Legend for viola (or alto saxophone) and orchestra” as the published score states.  Later still, the violin was added as another option for the solo instrument.  

From this, we know that the saxophone was not necessarily the composer’s preferred solo instrument in this piece; in fact, the premiere performance of the music was given by the violist Maurice Vieux at the Concerts Pasdeloup in 1919.

In the Hortus project, Volume 7 on the series was entrusted to the violist Vincent Roth, so it was only natural – as well as wholly legitimate — that he offered the piece in that form and performed as the soloist on the recording.

PLN: The Hortus series now numbers 35 volumes. Are there other volumes planned or is the series now complete?

EP: The series is now complete at 35 recordings. It is quite an accomplishment! The project called for an unprecedented commitment from the executives of the Hortus publishing company and from everyone else involved in the effort. We’re all grateful for that commitment – and for the excellent quality of the series.

Les Musiciens et la Grande Guerre: The final two volumes in the series. (Photo: Jean Cabon)

PLN: You have had a particularly interesting and varied musical career. Please tell us a little about your background.

EP: I think what describes me best in my musical journey is my penchant for discovery – and in particular my interest in music of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries which is such a very rich period for the arts.

Deeply in love with the heritage that surrounds me, I try as much as possible to defend and promote French music, often regretting that many French musicians do not pay enough attention to it.

Having focused on the piano initially, I then turned to harpsichord and organ. I am also passionate about creating music. I worked hard at my training, and today I am fortunate to be teaching composition at the Université de Bordeaux Montaigne.  

But I must say that when I discovered the harmonium d’art, for me it was a synthesis of everything I love: I was in my favorite era, with a heritage instrument and exploring quality repertoire in need of rediscovery. The interest aroused by the harmonium is palpable, and I wish as best that I can to contribute to a better knowledge and understanding of its musical qualities and significance.

PLN: What exposure to the composer Florent Schmitt did you have before working with his music for the Hortus series?

Alain Louvier

EP: Florent Schmitt is one of my favorite composers – and has been for many years. When I was studying at the CNSMDP [Paris Conservatoire] in my music analysis class, I had made a presentation on Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII and also achieved my prize with an analysis of La Tragédie de Salomé.  At the time – it was in 1997 — some teachers at the Conservatoire tried to dissuade me from selecting that topic because it was not “fashionable,” but the head of the class, composer Alain Louvier, encouraged me — and as it turned out, the jury was particularly interested in the work!

PLN: What other notable recording projects have you worked on recently or are planning for the future?

EP: With the pianist Jérôme Granjon, I have recently released a disc devoted to French piano duo-harmonium music of the Second Empire era.  As part of that project we recorded the Six duos of Saint-Saëns, the Prelude, fugue et variation of Franck, and a sonata by Lefébure-Wely that I discovered in 2012. The recording has been very well-received by the press, earning five Diapasons.  

The next project is devoted to more music by Saint-Saëns.

PLN: Where can music-lovers go to find out more about the Hortus Grande Guerre series?

EP: There are website pages devoted to the series which are well-worth investigating for the wealth of information that is there.  I encourage everyone to visit and explore!

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Those interested in the music of the early 20^th century should definitely investigate the entire Editions Hortus Grand Guerre series and the wealth of musical riches it contains.

Emmanuel Pélaprat on the air at Bordeaux Radio.

As for Emmanuel Pélaprat, he was interviewed recently on Bordeaux Radio – a fascinating discussion that was video-recorded and can be seen here. In addition, he was a featured recitalist at the 2016 Bern International Harmonium Festival in Switzerland, where his idiomatic and captivating performance of two movements from Rudolf Schartel’s Romantische Studien can be viewed here.

“It was the most thrilling piece I’d heard in years.  I was so moved by its unbridled joy that I knew we had to build an entire concert around it.”

— Scott Tucker, Artistic Director, The Choral Arts Society of Washington

On Sunday, May 19, 2019, The Choral Arts Society of Washington will present a concert at the Kennedy Center that features the music of Gabriel Fauré and two of his pupils, Lili Boulanger and Florent Schmitt.

Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII at the Kennedy Center is sure to be a memorable experience.

It promises to be one of the major highlights of the cultural season in the nation’s capital. Fauré’s famous Requiem, composed between 1887 and 1890, will be presented alongside two lesser-known choral pieces — but what brilliant works of art they are: Boulanger’s Psaume XXIV, composed in 1916, and Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, Op. 38, composed in 1904 during the final year of the composer’s Prix de Rome stay at the Villa Medici.

In the promotional materials for the concert, the Choral Arts Society notes:

In turn-of-the-century Paris, the lives and music of Fauré, Schmitt, and Boulanger were inextricably linked. Schmitt credited Fauré as his greatest influence and Boulanger knew Fauré as a family friend from childhood. Come explore the musical lineage of these three composers.  

Be transported by Fauré’s transcendent Requiem performed alongside Schmitt’s triumphant and declamatory setting of Psalm 47’s “O clap your hands all ye people!” and Boulanger’s exuberant Psalm 24 “The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness.” Fauré’s influence on Schmitt and Boulanger can be heard in their psalm settings and paved the way for future generations of composers.

Reading this description, it seems like it would be the most natural thing in the world to present these pieces together in concert — and yet to my knowledge this has not happened until now.

Dr. John Perkins

According to writings by choral music specialist John Perkins that were published in the May 2010 and June/July 2010 issues of Choral Journal magazine, Dr. Perkins notes the strong influence of Schmitt’s Psalm on the young Lili Boulanger, citing her biographer Léonie Rosenstiel who wrote that she “was extremely excited by the premiere … Lili followed every rehearsal with rapt attention.”  (At the time, Boulanger was all of 13 years old, and her older sister Nadia was playing the organ part in the Schmitt premiere which was presented on the day after Christmas in 1906, taking all of artistic Paris by storm.)

Scott Tucker

Intrigued by the premise of the program, I made contact with Scott Tucker, the ebullient artistic director of The Choral Arts Society of Washington. Maestro Tucker has headed up the group since 2012, before that being director of choral music at Cornell University in New York.  He has done great work with Choral Arts — arguably one of the top two or three choral groups in the nation’s capital, which makes this upcoming concert even more enticing.

Maestro Tucker was kind enough to share his perspectives about Schmitt’s Psalm 47 and how the piece ties together with the other compositions on the May program.  Highlights of that discussion are presented below.

PLN: When did you first discover the music of Florent Schmitt, and Psalm 47 in particular?  What was your initial reaction when hearing the piece for the first time?

The catalyst: Yan-Pascal Tortelier’s 2010 recording on the Chandos label.

SAT: I had come across Florent Schmitt’s name — mostly in reading about other composers — but had never heard his music.  I stumbled across a recording of Psalm 47 [the Tortelier/OSESP/Chandos recording] on Spotify, and was astounded by it. 

My first reaction was, “We MUST do this piece!”  It was the most thrilling piece I’d heard in years.  I was so moved by its unbridled joy that I knew we had to build an entire concert around it.

PLN: How would you characterize Psalm 47 in term of its counterparts in the French choral repertoire of the time — the early 1900s?

SAT: Schmitt is certainly as innovative as Ravel and Debussy, but in a slightly different way.  He is, in no uncertain terms, saying farewell to the 19th century — as others were doing — but he is pretty aggressive about it. 

Schmitt doesn’t break with tonality, as Schönberg eventually did, but he bends it far enough to be almost  unmoored at times. I love that this b-minor work begins with extended fanfares in C major and doesn’t find b minor for a full 55 measures — and then only briefly.  

PLN: Your concert consists of choral music by Fauré and two of his students.  What similarities do you see between the two younger composers’ artistry and that of Fauré?  What similarities or differences to you see between the two pieces that Schmitt and Boulanger created?

Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)

SAT: One doesn’t sense a lot of similarity of style between Fauré and these two students, but what is clear — especially in the case of Schmitt — is that Fauré passed on his deep knowledge of the work of Liszt and Wagner. 

The remarkable thing to me is that his students could write with such confidence — following their own creative “north stars” — and weren’t necessarily beholden to the aesthetics of their teacher. To me, this is the mark of a great mentor. 

Lili Boulanger (1893-1918), influenced by Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, composed three psalms of her own in 1916-17 — shortly before succumbing to illness at a tragically young age.

As for the similarities of the two Psalm settings, I assume that Lili Boulanger was influenced by the success of Schmitt’s Psalm 47 premiered a decade earlier (with her sister Nadia at the organ).

There are some surface similarities — such as the prominent use of brass fanfares — but Boulanger’s texture is more sparse than Schmitt’s and her harmony is filled with open fourths and fifths, giving it a kind of “primitive” sound. 

While not quite reflecting the primitivism of Stravinsky, there are shades of his influence in Boulanger’s setting.

PLN: What special hurdles does Schmitt’s score pose for the chorus?  Does singing in the French language pose more challenges than other languages such as German or Latin?

SAT: Well, first it has to be said that the piece is physically exhausting for the tenors and sopranos.  There is a lot of high and loud singing. So of course, early in the rehearsal process we needed to reduce the volume, and sometimes sing in the lower octave just to get the piece well-established in the ear before trying to put it in the voice. 

Florent Schmitt (1870-1958), photographed in 1900 a few years before composing Psaume XLVII.

Then there are the unexpected harmonic progressions, especially in the (gorgeous) middle section, which takes some time to master with confidence. 

The French language, with its nuance and shading of vowels, is certainly more difficult than German or Latin, but my musicians are pretty used to it, so that hasn’t been a major hurdle. 

The biggest challenge is getting them to hear the music as a whole, and not to get stuck in that “chorister bad habit” of blocking out other sounds — especially the dissonant ones.  

PLN: It’s likely that many of the chorus members haven’t sung any works by Schmitt until now.  What has been their reaction to this music?

SAT: So far the piece has its supporters and detractors.  This is typical with an unknown and difficult work.  I am confident that when they have mastered it further — and then have the opportunity to put it together with the orchestra — they will be very enthusiastic about it.

PLN: Speaking personally, what aspects of Schmitt’s score do you find the most interesting or noteworthy?

The Choral Arts Society of Washington (Photo: Russell Hirshorn)

SAT: Schmitt has packed all sorts of ideas into a 30-minute work, but these ideas never trip over one another.  It is really a very sophisticated score, and the more I live with it, the more deeply it affects me. 

It is not an easy work to master, but it is a very satisfying challenge.  As a choral director, I love that he is not afraid to leave the chorus a cappella at certain key moments.  (The organ part does have cues, just in case!)  

PLN: Now that you have had the experience of preparing Schmitt’s Psalm for performance, would you recommend the piece to other choral directors?

SAT: Absolutely!  Just a practical warning: Be aware that the Salabert score has no piano reduction — just the choral parts.  A piano reduction can be found online, and it is essential that they’d practice with it.

The first page from a vintage copy of the two-piano reduction score of Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, with copious notes written in by an unknown music director.  According to Scott Tucker, the solo- and duo-piano reduction scores are no longer available from the publisher (Salabert), adding to the challenges of preparing this music for performance.

PLN: Are there any closing comments you would like to make about the upcoming concert?

Alexandria Shiner

SAT: I am thrilled to be working with Alexandria Shiner, who will be singing the important soprano solo in this work.  She is in the Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program here at the Kennedy Center, and I think she has a great career ahead of her. 

To give you a flavor of her artistic excellence, you can listen to her rendition of “Dich teure Halle” from Wagner’s Tannhäuser here.

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For music-lovers in the Washington-Baltimore region, the Washington Choral Arts concert at the Kennedy Center on May 19th is definitely a can’t-miss event. To learn more about the concert and to reserve tickets, visit the Choral Arts website here.

Florent Schmitt: A contre-voix (1944)

Within the vast catalogue of music created by the French composer Florent Schmitt are a great number of vocal compositions. Indeed, throughout his 70+ year composing career, Schmitt would return again and again to the human voice — writing works for solo voice as well as for chorus.

The choral pieces are particularly interesting in that Schmitt’s creations are quite varied in their scoring. Some of the choral pieces feature large orchestral forces as well — the best-known being the stunning Psaume XLVII (1904) but also others such as Danse des Devadasis (1908), Fete de la lumière (1937), L’Arbre entre tous (1939) and Cinq chœurs en vingt minutes (1951).

Other choral creations by Schmitt feature all-male or all-female voices, scored with piano, organ or orchestra. And still others are a cappella pieces.  Some are sacred works but many others have secular inspirations.  One of the most fascinating of those is A contre-voix, Op. 104, which dates from 1944 when Schmitt was 74 years old and entering into his final period of composition.

Schmitt’s full description of the piece published on the cover of the score is “six chœurs mixtes ou quatuor a cappella.” From its very title “a contre-voix”, Schmitt is playing with double meanings — something he was to do often in his music.  On one level a contre-voix translates as “contrasting voices” … but more colloquially it can also mean “on the wrong track.”

Most recent recording (excerpts): Mihály Zeke (Paraty, 2018).

… And the track that Schmitt is on is driven very much by the sounds of the words and syllables he has put to music. To that end, four of the six movements are set to texts written by the composer himself, while the final two numbers are set to poetry by Pierre de Ronsard and Paul Arosa.

In a move that’s somewhat reminiscent of the Dame Edith Sitwell’s poetry in Sir William Walton’s Façade, much of the phrases in A contre-voix are nonsensical — drawing on syllables simply for the sake of how they sound.  As the French musicologist and author Jean Gallois explains:

“The wordplay continues throughout the first four texts [these are the ones written by Schmitt]. The music, too, is imbued with wit — couched as it is in top-sided rhythms, onomatopoeia, and impudent jokes.  But behind these deceptive masks there lurks a sublime tenderness along with a dazzling compositional mastery.”

The six movements that make up A contre-voix are of a contrasting character, and taken together are around 15 minutes in length.  The numbers in the set are:

I.  Retour à la terre (Back to the Land)

II.  Si mes poches (If My Pockets)

III. Les trois goëlettes (The Three Schooners)

IV.  L’Arche de Noé (Noah’s Ark)

V.  … Pour vous de peine (If I May Trouble You) (words by Pierre de Ronsard)

VI.  Bonnet vole (Bonnet Flies) (words by Paul Arosa)

The music could easily be described as “poly-everything” — polytonal, polychromatic, polyrhythmic — and it is endlessly fascinating. I find that the music is most effective when listening to the overall effect rather than attempting to work through its numerous complexities on a micro-level.

First commercial recording, with the Ensemble Vocal Philippe Collard on the Erato label (1964).

The first performance of A contre-voix happened in January 1947, performed by the Chorale Elisabeth Brasseur, one of the finest choral ensembles in Paris that would also be featured on the world premiere recording of Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII made in 1952.

In the ensuing years, the piece would gain a certain level of awareness thanks to periodic broadcasts over French Radio. But the first commercial recording of the work didn’t happen until 1964, when Erato released an LP titled Chansons a cappella featuring the Ensemble Vocal Philippe Collard.  That recording has been re-released several times, but never in the CD or download era.

Second recording: István Párkai and the Chamber Chorus of the Franz Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest (Hungaroton).

Then in 1977, Hungaroton released an LP of 20th century choral music featuring the Chamber Chorus of the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest directed by the esteemed choral conductor István Párkai.  That recording, which remains one of the best interpretations of this music, has been uploaded to YouTube and can be heard here.

In more recent times, several additional commercial recordings of A contre-voix have been released:

The John Alldis recording.

• A 1991 EMI recording featuring the Groupe Vocal de France (an organization active from 1976 to 1995) directed by the famed English chorus-master John Alldis
• A 1996 recording by the Wiener Konzertchor directed by Gottfried Rabl and released on the ORF (Austrian Radio) label
• A 2000 recording on the ATMA label featuring Les Chantres Musiciens (voices from Le Jeune Opéra du Québec) under the direction of Gilbert Patenaude
• A 2018 recording containing two excerpts (III Les trois goëlettes and VI Bonnet vole) performed by the choral group Arsys Bourgogne and directed by Mihály Zeke, released on the Paraty label (click here for a brief interview with Maestro Zeke about the music on this recording, titled Naissance de Vénus)

The Gottfried Rabl recording (ORF).

In addition to these commercial recordings, a fine 1988 live performance of A contre-voix is now available that features the Vocal Group of Philadelphia directed by Seán Matthew Deibler.  Maestro Deibler was a protégé of István Párkai in Budapest during the 1970s, and very likely became acquainted with Florent Schmitt’s score there — perhaps even singing as a member of the chorus on the 1977 Párkai recording.

The VGoP performance is available as a digital download item — part of the Seán Deibler Choral Legacy series of performances being released for the first time since the director’s death in 2000.

The environmental conditions under which the tapes were stored over the past three decades were not ideal, causing some of the recorded documents to be damaged and therefore unusable.  Unfortunately, the final movement of the A contre-voix performance was so affected and is therefore not included, but the first five movements of the set can be heard in fine audio-fidelity here, along with the ability to purchase a high-definition digital download.

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

For those who would like to follow along with the score to A contre-voix, the Párkai recording has been synchronized to the score and is uploaded to YouTube — thanks to Anthony Mondon and his valuable music channel.  Each individual movement is a separate upload and can be accessed via these links:

I.  Retour à la terre

II.  Si mes poches

III. Les trois goëlettes

IV.  L’Arche de Noé

V.  … Pour vous de peine

VI.  Bonnet vole

Listening to these fascinating a cappella pieces with the added benefit of viewing the score concurrently contributes even more to their effectiveness and appeal, I think.  Check out the links above and see if you don’t experience it the same way.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Andantino, in the composer’s own arrangement for trumpet and piano. This and all other versions created during Schmitt’s lifetime were published by Leduc. The clarinet version is far and away the most famous and oft-performed.

The French composer Florent Schmitt was known for creating multiple versions of many of his compositions. Throughout his lengthy career, time and again the composer would produce additional arrangements of his works featuring different sets of instruments.

To illustrate, many of Schmitt’s orchestral works were also published in piano reduction scores (solo, duet and/or piano duo versions). The converse was also true:  piano and vocal pieces that Schmitt would also orchestrate.

It was the same with his chamber works as well.

A representative example is Schmitt’s Légende (1918), which the composer published in separate versions featuring solo saxophone, viola and violin in both piano and orchestral garb.  Likewise, the Sonatine en trio (1935) exists in composer-created versions for flute/clarinet/harpsichord (the original scoring), flute/clarinet/piano and also violin/cello/piano.

But it is Schmitt’s Andantino, Op. 30, dating from 1906, that is perhaps the composer’s most versatile composition of all.  Originally conceived as a vocalise for soprano and piano, the piece has achieved its fame primarily as a work for clarinet rather than the voice.

The second published volume of the Vocalises-Études included musical contributions from such luminaries as Paul Dukas, Reynaldo Hahn, Vincent d’Indy and Maurice Ravel.

The origin of the music is an interesting story in itself. Schmitt’s composition was his contribution to a collection of vocalises and etudes assembled by Amédée-Landely Hettich, who was a respected voice instructor at the Paris Conservatoire.

Hettich approached nearly all of musical Paris (and points beyond), to commission new musical works — featuring the vocal line sung on vowels throughout — that he could use for instruction in the ultimate test of a singer’s rhythm and intonation.  Hettich wished to offer singers something better than monotonous scalar exercises for developing the voice — indeed, musical selections that could stand as works of art in themselves.

Hettich’s project began in 1906, and Schmitt’s contribution was one of the pieces created and delivered that same year for publication in Hettich’s first volume of vocalises. Ultimately, the project would extend over a period of nearly 30 years and amass more than 150 works from composers both famous and (now) obscure.

The title page for the first six published volumes of the Vocalises-Études. Florent Schmitt’s musical contribution was included in the first volume, published in 1906, which also included pieces solicited from Gabriel Fauré and Charles Koechlin.

The Andantino is one of the best examples of a vocalise composition I’ve ever heard.  In the span of a little more than three minutes, Schmitt produced a perfect gem featuring a gorgeously fluid vocal line encompassing just the right blend of color and warmth.  It’s little wonder that Schmitt would see its potential as a musical creation featuring additional solo instruments in lieu of the voice.

And indeed, the Andantino was ultimately published in no fewer than six versions — four of them prepared the composer.  They included:

• Bassoon (arranged by Fernand Oubradous)
• Clarinet
• Horn (arranged by Émile Vuillermoz)
• Oboe
• Trumpet
• Voice (soprano — original version)

Harry White

And in the modern era, we have another arrangement that has been created — that one the classical saxophone artist Harry White.

Despite the plethora of arrangements, to my knowledge the Andantino has been commercially recorded in just two of its versions:  clarinet and saxophone … and there’s no question that the clarinet arrangement dominates in both recordings and performances on stage.

The CD reissue of the classic Gervase de Payer premiere recording from 1961.

The first commercial recording of the Andantino was made in 1961 by clarinetist Gervase de Payer with pianist Cyril Preedy.  Released on the L’Oiseau-Lyre label, that classic recording has been reissued in the CD era — as well it should be.

Twenty-five years later, de Payer would return to the microphones to record the piece a second time — the new recording accompanied by pianist Gwynneth Pryor and released on the Chandos label in 1987.

The Gervase de Payer remake, 25 years later (Chandos, 1987).

While the two de Payer performances could well be considered benchmark recordings, there are a number of other fine recordings of the clarinet version of the Andantino that have been made — among them:

• Claude Faucomprez (with pianist Alain Raës — Harmonia Mundi, 1982 and René Gailly, 1996)
• Murray Khouri (with pianist Rosemary Barnes — Continuum, 1989)
• Ralph Manno (with pianist Alfredo Perl — Arte Nova, 1998 and Oehms, 2010)
• Duo Rivier (Stefan Zillmann with pianist Randolf Stöck — perc.pro, 2013)

Beyond commercial recordings, numerous other clarinetists have featured the piece in their recitals — among them Joshua Anderson, Wilfried Berk, Peter Koetsveld and Jerry Rife, to name just several.

Fabian Menzel

While performances of the Andantino featuring other instruments (or soprano) are rare, we do have a live performance of Schmitt’s oboe arrangement, featuring Fabian Menzel with pianist Maria Conti Gallenti, that has been uploaded to YouTube and can be heard here.

As for the newest arrangement of the piece — the one prepared by saxophonist Harry White only a few years ago — we have a stellar recording of it made by Mr. White himself with pianist Edward Rushton that was released on the BIS label in 2016. Well-worth hearing, the recording should win new converts to the piece among the burgeoning classical saxophone community around the world.

The newest arrangement, featuring saxophonist Harry White and pianist Edward Rushton (BIS recording, 2016).

There’s no question that the Andantino is one of those little gems that charms anyone who encounters it.  Here’s hoping that even more musicians will take it up — particularly in some of its lesser-known instrumental arrangements.

The recording that began it all: JoAnn Falletta conducting the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra (NAXOS, 2015).

By now, it seems that Florent Schmitt’s two Antoine et Cléopâtre Suites, Op. 69 have at last transitioned from being true rarities to become orchestral repertoire that is actually known.  There are now four commercial recordings of the suites (three of them made within the past decade), and in the past several years the music has appeared on concert programs in the United States, England and France.  In the upcoming 2019-20 concert season, the second suite is slated for performance by the Antwerp Symphony Orchestra in Belgium.

The 2015 NAXOS recording.

Without a doubt, part of the reason for the growing interest in Schmitt’s sumptuous suites comes from the 2015 NAXOS recording of this music featuring the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by JoAnn Falletta. Unlike two earlier recordings, Falletta’s release was given full international promotional support by NAXOS’ promotion department — including physical distribution into every corner of the world, along with heavy marketing of digital downloads.

As well, the Falletta recording sparked interest on the part of other musicians, including the conductor Sakari Oramo, who upon hearing it was inspired not only to record the music for the Chandos label with his BBC Symphony Orchestra, but also to team up with Shakespeare’s Globe to present a concert that included not only Schmitt’s music but also dialogue from Shakespeare’s eponymous play.

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

The music that Florent Schmitt created came about due to a 1920 production of Shakespeare’s play in a new French translation prepared by André Gide. That luxe production starred the famed dancer and dramatic actress Ida Rubinstein in the role of Cleopatra.

The six-hour extravaganza mounted on the stage of the Paris Opéra would run for just six performances, but Schmitt wisely extracted the music and turned it into two orchestral suites of three movements each, which were premiered later the same year by the Orchestre Lamoureux under the direction of Camille Chevillard.

That this incredible score lay nearly forgotten for decades following is one of those mysteries of the classical music business, but the 2015 NAXOS recording has gone a long way to revive interest in the music. Things have been helped along further by the dramatic adaptation prepared by Bill Barclay, music director at Shakespeare’s Globe, for the BBC/Globe co-production presented at London’s Barbican Centre in October of 2016.

Recently, events came full circle when the Virginia Arts Festival decided to mount the Barclay production of Antony & Cleopatra as part of its 2019 season.  The Virginia Symphony Orchestra is retained by the VAF each season to participate in one of the productions, and this year it happened to be for the Antony & Cleopatra concert, with the VSO’s music director JoAnn Falletta conducting.

For Bill Barclay, it was a chance to mount his adaptation working in concert with the conductor whose recording he knew first. Realizing the significance of this collaboration, I made contact with the two artists and had the opportunity to interview them during the weekend’s concerts.

Visiting with conductor JoAnn Falletta and director Bill Barclay at the Virginia Arts Festival’s presentation of Antony & Cleopatra, featuring Shakespeare’s play and music by Florent Schmitt.

The three of us spent an enjoyable hour together backstage, discussing Florent Schmitt’s incredible score and how Barclay had woven it together with Shakespeare’s dialogue to create a highly effective 80-minute theatrical experience in the concert hall. Highlights of our conversation are presented below:

PLN: Could you tell us how this unusual project came to be?  What was its genesis?

Bill Barclay: The genesis was JoAnn Falletta’s 2015 recording of this music with the Buffalo Philharmonic.  Then Sakari Oramo, the conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, heard it and decided he wanted to do it.

Around that same time we had two big Shakespeare anniversaries — his birth and death anniversaries – happening in 2014 and 2016. In the vein of the classical world loving an anniversary, the Globe got hit with a couple of proposals to do something collaborative to mark the moment.

Sometimes initiatives like this can be rather boring, but in this instance it really helped us. Sakari and the BBC pitched the idea of doing the Schmitt with me.  I then pitched it to the Hollywood Bowl (the LA Phil had asked us to collaborate on something as well).  I triangulated those three companies to prepare this new adaptation.

And then, after having made the financial deal, I had to write it. I didn’t actually have a set plan for doing so, but I thought it could be done.  The LA and London performances came about in 2016 — the first one a truncated offering and the second one the full production. And now, here we are in 2019 and we get to do it right at the fountainhead — stitching it together with the conductor who started it all, using JoAnn’s own phrasings and tempi.

Sakari Oramo

JoAnn Falletta: I didn’t realize that Sakari Oramo discovered this music because of my recording.  If we had done it on our own house label, no one would ever hear it.  But NAXOS gets it all over the place.  NAXOS wants us to find composers like Florent Schmitt:  great Romantic, accessible music that isn’t well-known.  They feel they don’t need more of the same Brahms and Dvorak that they’ve had in their catalog for decades now.

I think at that time — back in 2015 — Schmitt was just beginning to experience his renaissance, which has gathered even more momentum since then. I’m not surprised, because Schmitt’s music is very fine but also very important.  In some ways it’s like a missing link in French music.  It goes beyond impressionism and it’s very complex without going into “Stravinsky-world.”

In his day, Schmitt was composing his own brand of complicated, sophisticated, unusual music. No one was doing this sort of music — at least not in Paris.  Before his renaissance it was in danger of being lost forever.

PLN: How did you discover the existence of the 1920 André Gide Paris production, and Schmitt’s music that he composed for it?

Grand interior of the Paris Opéra.

Bill Barclay: I started out by doing as much research as I could, including having a couple of short, bewildering conversations with the Bibliothèque Nationale de France where no one had recollection of even a single scrap of paper belonging to that original Paris Opéra production.  All they could locate was one fanfare from the production that they said I could come down to Paris and look at in their vault.

After that rather fruitless endeavor, I called the music publisher Durand and had a similar conversation with them, which proved no more fruitful. Ultimately I came to realization that I was up against the same wall that I’ve faced with Shakespeare’s music — which is that incidental music scores for theatre productions are habitually cast away.  They’re considered disposable, and no one keeps a record of stage management books, cue books, or anything else.

This practice goes all the way back to Purcell and The Fairy Queen, the score to which was lost for many decades before finally being unearthed.  It’s just the legacy and history of theatre music, unfortunately.

Thank goodness Schmitt, like Mendelssohn did with Midsummer Night’s Dream and Grieg did with Peer Gynt, took his music and turned it into concert suites that he intended to be in the orchestral sphere for posterity.   Had he not, probably we would have none of it today.

The program book cover from the Gide/Rubinstein production of Antony & Cleopatra (1920).

I did as much research as I could but finally realized that it was an abyss. Besides the one fanfare, apparently all that’s survived of the André Gide adaptation is a program booklet from the 1920 production which indicates that Schmitt’s music was played in between the acts of the play.  What I found I needed to do was to “unpick” the music of the suites and turn it back into an incidental score, using only my instincts as my guide.

One happy aspect of that challenge is that it was concrete; if it had been about putting a score back together or re-notating written music, probably I’d have ended up in a really difficult place regarding the coherence and compatibility of the orchestration.

JoAnn Falletta:  Thankfully, there’s a great deal of music in Schmitt’s two suites — plenty from which to draw on for the adaptation Bill was able to create.  And now that we have the chance to perform the music with the words from the play, the music Bill has chosen to pair with the scenes seems to me like they were “meant to be.”  What else could it be except music for these scenes of the play?

Bill Barclay: Yes, it seems so “now.”  The music for the barge speech, for instance — the music goes so well with the words in that scene.

JoAnn Falletta: We have several full movements that are performed without dialogue – and those make perfect sense, too.

Act II, including the famous barge speech (Scene II): A page from the program book for the Gide/Rubinstein production of Shakespeare’s Antony & Cleopatra at the Paris Opéra (1920).

Bill Barclay: My hope is that in the sections of our production where the actors get out of the way and let the orchestra play, it reminds the audience that the music is the dominant modality.  The actors are there at the invitation of the music; it isn’t that the music is there at the invitation of the story. So yes, playing full movements is an important gesture in that it reminds the audience that this is a feast for the ears. The words contextualize that and not the other way around.

PLN: What I’m hearing you say is that the play is incidental to the music, not that the music is incidental to the play …

Bill Barclay: Exactly so!

PLN: When you first heard Maestra Falletta’s 2015 recording, what were your initial impressions of the music — and her vision of the score?

Bill Barclay: Wow — it took me to a place where I was describing the music to friends as “Ravel on steroids.”  It had this sort of deeply impressionistic, interwar Paris melting-pot energy where I could totally imagine the fingerprints of the literary geniuses that surrounded this arms race of composers who were trying to top each other in this friendly competition they were all having.

It wasn’t just French artists, of course, because Stravinsky was there. Gershwin was there.  It seems to me that Schmitt was attempting to top Pétrouchka and the other Ballets Russes pieces. But he’s also harnessing that orientalist streak that was happening in Paris at that time – even as the world was starting to actually hear authentic music and witness the dancing from those exotic lands, from Bali and South Asia or elsewhere, thanks to international expositions.

Not surprisingly, we see that pentatonic scales are littered throughout so many of the compositions being written in those times. My musical brain was clicking on all of this as I was listening to Schmitt.  I saw complete virtuosity in the compound time signatures that he was using to displace the downbeats.

It one-ups even some of the better passages in Debussy where that composer had attempted to do the same thing. In Schmitt’s music I sensed this sheer force of willpower — a strong iron will — that’s guiding these huge gusts.  And while it felt like Debussy and Richard Strauss in places, ultimately it was unfamiliar — and quite unique — in terms of the musculature of the writing.

The program for the May 2019 Virginia Arts Festival production of Shakespeare/Schmitt’s Antony & Cleopatra, inscribed by director Bill Barclay.

JoAnn Falletta:  To me, the music is very dark.  It comes from a time when the world was in the midst of unsettling change.  It’s not easy-listening music like we encounter in some of the more prettified orientalist scores of Saint-Saëns and Bizet.  One of the most astonishing things about Schmitt’s music is its rhythmic complexity, which I don’t really see in any other composer writing at that time. Even Stravinsky’s music, with all of his changing of meters, isn’t nearly as complex as Schmitt.

I recall one of our oboe players exclaiming to me that when she listened to her oboe solo on the Buffalo recording, “I don’t know what’s going on! I feel like I’m swimming around without an anchor.  How will I figure out what to do?”  But of course, you can figure it out; you just have to approach Schmitt a bit differently than you do most other composers.

I’d venture to say that Schmitt was guided by a rhythmic force that few others possess – where the music leaves you never quite feeling grounded.  You’re moving somewhere but you may not know where.  Whatever’s happening, you’re in a beautiful place even if it’s unsettled — a lovely sort of bewilderment, if you will.

Bill Mootos plays Antony in the Virginia Arts Festival’s presentation of Antony & Cleopatra, featuring the words of Shakespeare and the music of Florent Schmitt (May 2019). (Photo ©Rachel Greenberg)

And if you think about the particular characters in Antony & Cleopatra, it makes complete sense.  We have the Antony theme which is so noble, but the leitmotiv crops up in many guises.  Sometimes it’s strong, sometimes it’s poignant.  And it’s genius in how it interacts with the seductive and sometimes evil themes of Cleopatra and Egypt; it all comes together perfectly.

The way that Bill has pared down Shakespeare’s play, it really focuses on the relationship between the two main characters, which makes these leitmotivs even more important to the entire experience.

PLN: Maestra Falletta, you are familiar with many of Schmitt’s orchestral compositions, and you consider Antony & Cleopatra to be among his very finest creations. What is it that you find so compelling about the music?

JoAnn Falletta: I just recorded La Tragédie de Salomé in March which is another important work, but I still see Antony & Cleopatra as Schmitt’s greatest masterpiece.  There’s something about the tone painting in this music that’s so emotionally effective and that really gets at the tragic aspects of the title characters — encompassing both their flaws and their nobility.

PLN: In your view, how effective is Florent Schmitt in conjuring up “atmospherics” that are fitting for Shakespeare’s drama?

Bill Barclay: Schmitt paints the scene like a Turner painting, it seems to me — where you get the whole emotional quality of the mise en scene but you’re also invited into the ambiguity and the quick-moving aspects of it.  It isn’t about realism or making sure that you buy it at face value; it’s an invitation into all of the emotional flexibility that’s behind the veil.

There’s a visceral quality to this music — such as in the Orgies et danses movement where there’s clearly a sexual climax in the music.  It isn’t ham-fisted; rather, it takes your breath away because the music is so kinetic.  And it begs the presence of actors to embody some of the language and to use their bodies in telling the story.

Either that, or the whole orchestra should stand up and play … but Schmitt invites a reincarnation of these mythic characters. If you listen to this music long enough, it takes your heart right out of your chest and you want to see that heart beating in someone else’s breastplate.

JoAnn Falletta: We know that Schmitt was a cultured person – worldly, elegant, well-dressed and all of that.  But when you think about it, he must have been a tortured soul in some respects as well, in order to create music such as this.

Niani Feelings plays Cleopatra in the Virginia Arts Festival’s presentation of Antony & Cleopatra, featuring the words of Shakespeare and the music of Florent Schmitt (May 2019). (Photo ©Rachel Greenberg)

I’d like to make another point which I’ve discovered as we’ve been rehearsing the music with the actors for these concerts. We play the music one way when we perform it as the suites, but I’m finding that the musicians are playing it in a different way when they come in under or following the actors. Hearing the dialogue, it’s affecting their view of the music and how it should be played.  It’s been very interesting.

PLN: Your production of Antony & Cleopatra doesn’t encompass Shakespeare’s entire drama. Can you tell us what the strategy was in creating your 80-minute “filleted” version of the play?

Bill Barclay: I don’t know that I had an actual “strategy” going in at the outset in terms of how this would come together. I had a problem to solve:  I had made a financial deal with two very big orchestras and had gotten my organization behind something that I said would work — and then I had to produce it.

I didn’t know for sure that it was even possible, but I just assumed that I could somehow make it happen. So I listened to the movements of the suites to determine what parts of the play would correspond best to the music. From there, it was whittling down the speeches and dialogue — cutting the words to fit the amount of music we had.

For instance, at the end of the Orgies et danses movement we have silhouettes of three of the characters — which is very important to that part of the play in that the characters all realize that death is coming and they see it in front of their eyes.  Those are three of my most favorite speeches in the play, but in the adaptation the audience is hearing half or less of those speeches so that we can have certain phrases spoken over certain bars of the music.  The key is to make it so that the music and words are intentionally matched to one another.

Once the set pieces were there — those silhouettes and the barge speech that are in marquee lights, in a sense — from there it became a question of deciding if we were going to tell the story, or just give impressions. Merely giving impressions can be OK; we see that in Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream where many people already know Shakespeare’s play — or at least they know the broad outlines of the love affair.

Battle of Actium (Painting: Lorenzo Castro)

But in the Schmitt I got ambitious in the Battle of Actium scene.  In the middle section where things in the score calm down a little bit, I could actually front-load enough of the plot to get the audience to lean forward and follow the language – which is important because their own empathy depends on understanding what is happening.  That’s a fundamentally different approach than having a pastiche where we do just a bit of text and then some beautiful music is presented.

Once I had an itch to accomplish that, I was able to set all the gears in motion that would allow the skeletal structure of the plot to hang on the structure of the music.

Related to this, there’s an interesting aspect about Shakespeare that I’ve noticed happening in recent years, where there’s a bit of fatigue about him that may have set in — the idea that some of his plays are simply too long. Unfortunately, I think that view is only going to become more prevalent over time.

Modern attention spans may be three hours long for an Avengers movie, but for Shakespeare, if you’re going to ask for a three-hour commitment from people and you want them to stand up for the ovation at the end, it has to be the best three hours they’ve ever spent in a theatre.  That’s a challenge, to put it mildly.

As for our 2016 presentation of the Antony & Cleopatra adaptation at the Barbican, I’m actually wondering if the critics were happy that the production was as short as it was — because this particular Shakespeare play goes on and on and on!

JoAnn Falletta: I had to smile when one of the Arts Festival staff members mentioned that in Bill’s adaptation, he had left out all the boring parts of the play!  She’s correct; there isn’t very much empathy for characters like Octavius and Lepidus, so you don’t lose much by reducing them to little more than plot references.

PLN: From the information contained in the elaborate (and rare) multi-page printed program from the 1920 Paris production that surfaced recently at an international arts auction, we know that Schmitt’s score was played as incidental music in between the acts of the play.  The current production takes a different approach, integrating the music with the words of the play.  In what ways does this make for a more satisfying presentation of both the music and the drama?

JoAnn Falletta: I think it’s quite different.  In this production the musicians and the actors are reacting to each other, whereas in the original 1920 production, those aspects were separated and, in some ways, disconnected.

Bill Barclay: Before the end of the First World War and the end of silent films there were so many great theatre scores that were prepared. In those days theatres would have a live orchestra — even for straight plays.  There might be a few songs included, but mostly it would be incidental music, scene-change music and spectacle music to accompany a play.

That was the case for 200 years of theatre history, but there were only a few composers who had the time or the ability to revise and prepare their scores for orchestral performance later — Peer Gynt, Midsummer Night’s Dream, Bizet’s L’Arlesienne and a few other examples.  The rest were destined to be forgotten.

But today we have a window of opportunity because orchestras need to innovate in new ways. We find now that certain theatrical innovations are becoming more commonplace.  I’m thinking about things like Cirque de la Symphonie, feature films with live orchestra, and so on.

Today, we’re in this moment when orchestras are realizing that they need to hybridize their audience base. The interesting thing is that the solutions aren’t just about today or the future; we can go back and recreate some of these entertainments from yesteryear that involved full orchestras.

We cannot go back completely to the way it was — doing a six-hour production of Antoine et Cléopâtre like the Paris Opéra did in 1920 — but we can do it on the turf of the concert hall, mixing in and contextualizing stories to recreate the Golden Age of theatre.  In essence, to create a Gesamtkunstwerk without Wagner.  There are many scores like Antony & Cleopatra that could be refashioned like this – and one way to do it is in the concert hall with performers.

The program for the 2019 Virginia Arts Festival’s presentation of the Shakespeare/Schmitt Antony & Cleopatra production, inscribed by conductor JoAnn Falletta.

JoAnn Falletta: It’s been interesting to compare notes with Bill on how orchestras and other performing arts groups are tackling the need to adjust the way we’re delivering music.  But importantly, it has to change in ways that preserve the art form and actually intensify the quality — not “dumbing it down” in an ill-conceived attempt to reach more people.

I’m very impressed with how Bill has maintained the integrity of both artistic products – Shakespeare’s words and Florent Schmitt’s music. Thankfully it’s not making it mindless “easy listening” or seeking to avoid taxing the audience, but it’s changing the concert experience in very interesting ways.

Some of the attempts certain orchestras are making in this general direction aren’t really working. For example, performing movie soundtracks over top a film like Indiana Jones or Home Alone or Harry Potter I or II might have seemed like a good idea initially, but now looks more like a fad that might run its course after only a few years.

PLN: Bill, the first full presentation of your production was in London in 2016.  What was the audience and critical reception to the performance?

Janie Dee portrays Cleopatra at the Barbican in the 2016 production of Bill Barclay’s dramatic adaptation of the Shakespeare/Schmitt Antony & Cleopatra, with the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sakari Oramo. (Photo: © BBC | Mark Allan)

Bill Barclay: It was a Barbican audience — which is to say the hall was filled with people who love the experimental side of classical music.  That audience tends to be edgier because of the brutalist construction of the complex and the whole streak of experimentalism that the Barbican embodies.

It’s somewhat like the role Lincoln Center plays in New York City but it has a more permanent avant-garde streak.  So I’d say that the audience was up for it — they were willing to go on the adventure.

Thank goodness the press was gracious, enthusiastic — and I think in a very London way, supportive of the risk-taking which is something one can count on in the critical community there. They have an ability to acknowledge when people experiment and try new approaches, and to appreciate the effort more than we might expect to find in the New York press in comparison. In a place like London, the movable feast is something you can have and it will be welcomed into the community.

PLN: Have you made any adjustments to the production between 2016 and today?

Bill Barclay: Initially the Globe was going to produce this Virginia production as well, but then a new artistic director come in which resulted in a change of focus.  At first I was disappointed in that development because I had wanted to bring the Globe here, but it turned out to be a blessing in actuality.

For a while I had been thinking about starting my own company. Virginia gave me an opportunity to launch with this idea.  Then it became the question of what actors I could get.  I grew up in Boston and knew performers there that I could pull in for this production.  I could bring them together for a week of rehearsal on their own home turf and then bring them down here to Virginia.  Three of the five cast members are people I’ve worked with in the past, and the other two came recommended by people I know.

But as far as the production itself is concerned, what we’re presenting Virginia is exactly what was done in London.

Curtain call for the cast and musicians of the Virginia Arts Festival’s presentation of Bill Barclay’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s Antony & Cleopatra, incorporating the music Florent Schmitt created for the 1920 Paris production of the play featuring a new French translation by André Gide. (Photo ©Rachel Greenberg)

PLN: How has it been for the two of you to collaborate on this Virginia Arts Festival production?  How have the rehearsals gone with the actors and musicians working together?

JoAnn Falletta: The great thing for me is that Bill is a fantastic musician.  Otherwise, it could have become difficult when attempting to work the music portion in with the dialogue.

In our rehearsals Bill is talking to me as a musician, and that has helped me understand what is in his mind. And then he’s also the conduit to the actors, who of course are not musicians.  Bill has been that bridge for us.

I’m not sure how well it would have worked without someone with Bill’s background and knowledge.

Bill Barclay: It helps when there’s a great collaboration between the musicians and the actors when preparing the production for performance.  Collaborating with JoAnn has been a dream.

I’ve done this maybe about a dozen times — putting actors in front of the orchestra. It’s never been as pleasurable as working with JoAnn, and I’m saying this without hyperbole.  It has been the most accommodating environment for collaboration.

JoAnn Falletta: Bill is generous in his praise, but unlike some other conductors who might come to a score like this without much foreknowledge, I knew this music already from performing and recording it.  I knew the treacherous moments and could address those areas with the musicians.  Even so, the first orchestra rehearsal we had was quite rocky, but then we had four rehearsals to work things out.

Bill Barclay: And the second dress rehearsal went beautifully.

PLN: Are there additional presentations of this Antony & Cleopatra production that are in the works? 

Bill Barclay: None yet, but I hope that there will be.  We’ll all be talking about it afterwards to figure out how to push this over the fence.  It isn’t easy to cold-call a vice president of artistic planning at a place like Minneapolis or St. Louis and say, “I think you folks should do this.”  I think it needs to develop more organically — building on the success of it being mounted elsewhere.

JoAnn Falletta: I think this adaptation has that kind of potential.  I’d like to bring it to Buffalo, and music festivals are often a good environment because planners are hungry for fresh and interesting material to program.

But people also need to realize that it’s not easy material; it isn’t just whole notes and the actors carrying the entire thing.

Bill Barclay: … Which is one reason why I think JoAnn might be the best person to conduct the orchestra in future productions of Antony & Cleopatra!

PLN: The French conductor Fabien Gabel, who presented the second suite from Antony & Cleopatra with the Orchestre de Paris last year, remarked that the musicians found it the most challenging of the five “orientalist” works on that program — and also the one that required the most time to prepare. Maestra Falletta, do you agree that the music poses special challenges for players? 

JoAnn Falletta: It does pose challenges, and the musicians at my two orchestras agree that this is very difficult music to master.  One of our VSO trombonists joked with me after the first rehearsal this week, asking, “Are you trying to kill us?”  But I think if you’re conducting an orchestra of a certain level of quality, it’s definitely something that can be programmed and I would love to do so again.

PLN: As we wrap up, do you have any further observations you would like to make about this production of Antony & Cleopatra or Schmitt’s music in general?

Bill Barclay: With these productions, the costuming is fine and the visual sense of the orchestra in the hall is great.  But when we can achieve a high level of collaboration like has happened here in Virginia, it makes the whole thing as a feast for the ear with the text and the music coming together.  It’s quite special.

With something like an orchestra accompanying films with live music, the film is so interesting visually that people end up subverting the ear to the eye.  We need to realize that it’s important that the music not become secondary to the visual.  The music shouldn’t be subservient to the screen.  I honestly think that we’ve accomplished that in this Schmitt production.

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Having witnessed the Virginia Arts Festival presentation of the dramatic adaptation of Shakespeare’s Antony & Cleopatra with Schmitt’s music, I can attest to the fact that the Bill Barclay’s endeavor is a success.  Here’s hoping that this production — and others like it — will be taken up by other orchestras around the country and across the English-speaking world.

Curtain call for soprano Karina Gauvin, conductor Fabien Gabel, chorus director David Rompré, the Orchestre Symphonique de Quebéc and OSQ Chorus following the performance of Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII at the Grand-Théâtre on May 29, 2019.

On May 29, 2019, the Orchestre Symphonique de Quebéc and its chorus presented the orchestra’s final concert of the season – one that featured French music exclusively. The event was a red-carpet affair at the Grand-Théâtre in Québec City in which local dignitaries were invited guests of the orchestra.  Also noteworthy was the centerpiece of the musical program:  Florent Schmitt’s blockbuster choral work Psaume XLVII, Op. 38.

Florent Schmitt, photographed in 1900 around the time he won the Prix de Rome first prize for composition.

Composed in 1904, the Psaume was Schmitt’s final envois to the Paris Conservatoire during his time at the Villa Medici in Rome – the result of winning the Prix de Rome first prize for composition four years earlier.  The premiere of this composition on the day after Christmas in 1906 took all of musical Paris by storm.

The “hugeness” of this piece – large mixed chorus, large orchestra, solo soprano, violin and organ – was noteworthy.  Schmitt was hailed as “The New Berlioz” by the press, the Psaume was described as “profound and powerful” by Maurice Ravel, and the poet Léon-Paul Fargue wrote, “A great crater of music is opening up in our midst.”

Manuel Rosenthal (1904-2003)

More than a century later, the importance of Psaume XLVII hasn’t dimmed.  It stands nearly alone in the French repertoire as the quintessential grandiose choral work intended for the concert hall rather than for presentation in an ecclesiastical setting.

It’s hardly surprising that the noted conductor, composer and arranger Manuel Rosenthal would say to his students, “If you conduct just one French choral work in your career, it should be this Psalm.”

Fabien Gabel

Likewise, for French conductor Fabien Gabel who serves as music director of the OSQ, conducting Psalm 47 was a dream come true.  An indefatigable advocate for Schmitt’s music around the world, Maestro Gabel has presented several of Schmitt’s lesser known orchestral compositions including Le Palais hanté (1900-04), Rêves (1915) and Ronde burlesque (1927).

For Gabel, the opportunity to present the Psaume marks a move into presenting Schmitt’s more famous pieces (Antony & Cleopatra in 2018, while La Tragédie de Salomé is soon to come in the 2020-21 season).

Karina Gauvin

For Karina Gauvin, who was engaged to present the important soprano solo in the middle section of the Psalm, it was the chance to sing one of the most movingly ecstatic solos in the French choral repertoire – as well as an opportunity to showcase her work with the French rep, which has been somewhat overshadowed by her reputation for working with the music of George Frederick Handel and other Baroque masters.

Canadian-born Gauvin has been described as “not only a national treasure, but an international one as well” – and as it turns out, her voice is ideally suited for Schmitt’s composition.

I was fortunate to be able to attend the OSQ concert where Psalm XLVII was presented and can personally attest to the impressive result, with Miss Gauvin, the chorus and musicians turning in an inspired performance under the capable leadership of Maestro Gabel.  Moreover, the day before the concert I was able to interview both the soprano and the conductor in between the final rehearsal sessions.  Highlights of the very interesting and engaging hour we spent together are presented below.

PLN: Maestro Gabel, you are a champion of Florent Schmitt’s music all over the world, but this is the first time you have conducted Psaume XLVII. When did you first become acquainted with the music?

Fabien Gabel: During the time I was Kurt Mazur‘s assistant, I was fortunate to attend a rehearsal of this piece in Paris with Yan-Pascal Tortelier conducting the Orchestre National de France.

Yan-Pascal Tortelier

At the time I knew several compositions by Florent Schmitt like the Trumpet Suite and La Tragédie de Salomé.  But I didn’t know this piece, and in fact I hadn’t planned on attending the rehearsal.  But I was in the corridors of French radio, overheard the rehearsal and became curious about it.  Musically, I was blown away by the strength and force of the Psaume.  In terms of the dynamic range, it was huge.

Even now, 15 years later when I started rehearsing it, it’s been an amazing discovery — and an incredible experience.

In France, except for Berlioz we don’t have much choral repertoire like this as part of our musical heritage. From the time period between Berlioz and Schmitt there are a few masses by Saint-Saëns and Gounod, and the Fauré Requiem.  Those pieces are beautiful, but they are not major works compared to the Schmitt — there’s really no comparison.

PLN: What made you decide to program Psaume XLVII as part of this week’s very interesting OSQ program of vocal and choral works? What was the “strategy” behind how the program came together?

Conductor Fabien Gabel (center) confers with assistant conductor Thomas Le Duc Moreau (left) and organist Marc d’Anjou (right) during the dress rehearsal. The orchestra’s new digital organ, programmed to replicate the sound of the grand Cavaillé-Coll organs of Paris, was inaugurated at the May 29, 2019 presentation of Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII.

Fabien Gabel: The strategy was to build a program around this Psaume because it’s an excellent piece, plus we have a Francophone choir.  The chorus is mainly an amateur choir and they typically do standard repertoire like the Mozart Requiem, Carmina Burana or Beethoven’s Ninth.  I think it was very interesting for them to do this work — and to sing in French rather than in Latin or German.

It’s likely the Psaume is the most demanding piece the choir has ever prepared for performing with us.

From there I built the program, including Fauré’s early Psaume CXXXVI as well, which is a fantastic piece composed when he was just 18 years old.  Fauré was Schmitt’s teacher, and then the Ravel pieces were included because Fauré also taught him.  (Ravel and Schmitt were well-acquainted, too.)

Plus, we added the Debussy Claire de lune.  I think it was nice to play the music of four of the five major French composers of the period.  Roussel is missing, but we didn’t have time to include another piece on the program.

With the Ravel Shéhérazade, the [Klingsor] mélodies are mainstream repertoire, but it was also nice to include the early Ouverture de féerie.  I wouldn’t classify that piece as “amateur,” but it is startling to realize the change in Ravel’s output over a period of just five years.  In the Ouverture we can see some weaknesses but we can really hear the emerging personality of Ravel.  Interestingly, the more we rehearsed the Ouverture the better it sounded.

The OSQ concert program for May 29, 2019, inscribed by conductor Fabien Gabel.

PLN: Miss Gauvin, were you familiar with the music of Florent Schmitt prior to being engaged to sing the solo in Psaume XLVII? What were your initial impressions of the music when you encountered it?  What about the soprano solo part in particular?

Karina Gauvin: I knew of Florent Schmitt and I have some scores of his mélodies at home that were given to me rather recently, but this piece I didn’t know at all.  I hadn’t really delved into his music until now.

As for my initial impressions of the piece, it’s probably what many people would say — the music is so lush, and there are so many layers. It’s like this amazing, luscious layer cake!  It builds and builds and builds, and it’s certainly very exciting music.

Regarding the soprano solo, it’s fantastic. I think it reflects the fact that French composers of the period really knew how to write for the human voice.  Composers like Ravel, Debussy and Florent Schmitt were taught how to write for the human voice.

A sonic “experience”: Psalm 47 by Florent Schmitt.

Sometimes when we encounter music that came later on, we might get the impression that those composers hadn’t learned how to compose for the voice and to make it singable. A voice is not a keyboard or some other instrument — but for many composers, that’s something they don’t grasp.

In the Psaume‘s solo part, even though it’s very demanding, it’s very singable.  It has a big tessitura with high jumps and it goes quite low as well, but the way it’s written, the lilting vocal line is very flowing.  It’s a testament to Schmitt’s talent as to how effective it is, but it also underscores what the Paris Conservatoire instructors were teaching at the time.

PLN: Thinking about the Psaume, how would you place it within the French choral tradition — and French music in general? What characteristics does it share with other music of the time in Paris … and what is different about it?

Karina Gauvin: Generally, I think of French music of this time period as more delicate.  By contrast, the Psaume is very opulent — and this is what sets it apart.  We have all of this lushness, but then in the middle section with the soprano we have this big contrast.  In the vocal line the text is repeated numerous times [He hath chosen in his inheritance the beauty of Jacob, whom he loved”], and as it keeps going in this vein, it begins to feel more and more like an ecstatic trance.

As it builds, the soprano is kind of like an angel messenger — at least, this is what I sense.  It’s a kind of elevation.  And when the big climax with the chorus comes, you really feel like there’s a direct channel between earth and heaven.  It’s an ascension of sorts.

Fabien Gabel: If you ask me to compare the Psaume to any other choral piece in the French repertoire, I can’t think of anything that quite compares.  The Psaume has three parts.  The first part I’d say is more academic.  The second part is much “newer” in terms of the harmonies and so forth, and the third part takes us back to the flavor of the beginning.

When I say “academic,” it’s because Schmitt includes two fugues — and we can imagine that those might have been included because this composition was one of the envois that Schmitt composed during the time of his Prix de Rome stay at the Villa Medici.  Even so, the dance we have in the first part is in 5/4, which is certainly forward-looking.

The first page of Maestro Fabien Gabel’s full score to Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII.

In the middle section where we have the soprano, the choir and the orchestra is quite stunning — and it’s the most beautiful part of the piece where we are in heaven, so it seems. Transitioning to that middle section we have the violin solo, where you could say that suddenly we have left the nineteenth century and are in the avant-garde of the early twentieth century.

In the later transition after the soprano’s solo, with the organ and harps, this is where time is suspended. You might say it’s quite Debussyian.  The ending of the Psaume is very exciting as well because of the dance rhythms and the huge orchestra, but in the middle part we are clearly in time-travel — into the future!

PLN: What has it been like for the orchestra and the chorus to rehearse this piece in preparation for the concert?  What special challenges did the musicians encounter with the music?

Fabien Gabel: Always when I program Florent Schmitt, the musicians are freaking out.  Their first reaction is to say, “It’s so complicated!  We don’t know where it goes!”  I think success with Schmitt is a matter of preparation, and the musicians are extremely well-prepared because they know the music is challenging to play.  Our chorus members have worked on the piece since last January.

But then when we rehearse it, it’s like Ravel: everything automatically fits together.  Each note is at the right place – no more and no less.  With Schmitt, the music is so well-written; even though it’s difficult, it sounds wonderful.

The OSQ dress rehearsal for Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII (May 28, 2019).

Contrast this with Debussy where you have to work at making the sound come out right — you have to work on precision. With Schmitt as with Ravel, it sounds right more effortlessly.  In Central European music, it’s similar to the differences between Richard Strauss and Mahler scores:  With Strauss it automatically sounds as it should, but with Mahler you have to work at making it sound good.

Today, I can immediately recognize the writing of Florent Schmitt just like I can the music of Ravel. Of course, later on in his life — even when Ravel was still alive — Schmitt went beyond in his harmonic system.  Some of his later music sounds almost atonal.

PLN: Now that you’ve had the opportunity to prepare this piece for performance, would you recommend it to other orchestras and choruses?  What words of advice would you give if they chose to program it?

Karina Gauvin: Yes, of course!  This music is quite demanding for the chorus — especially if you’re working with a group that’s mainly amateurs.  They are going to need extra forces to propel them — along with extra rehearsal time — because it isn’t easy music.  It has a big tessitura — especially for the sopranos and tenors — and it’s going at full throttle in many key moments.

For the soprano solo, ideally I think it should be a voice with a light touch in addition to having strength. It requires the full gamut.  For me, I’ve studied French repertoire from the time I was quite young and in my years at the Montréal Conservatoire.  I’ve always loved singing it, but in my early career you could say I was nabbed by the Baroque community.  I’ve been doing a lot of repertoire like Handel.  The Baroque period suits my voice well, but that same sort of agility lends itself well to French repertoire.

Several years ago, I was fortunate to sing in Saint-Saëns’ rarely heard opera Ascanio, which was also recorded, and it rekindled my interest in the French repertoire.  This is the first time I’ve worked with Fabien and yesterday when we were rehearsing, he asked me if I’d perform more of this kind of repertoire.  Obviously, I would love to do so.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII, inscribed by conductor Fabien Gabel and soprano Karina Gauvin.

Fabien Gabel: Quite simply, the Psaume is a great piece of music.  For anyone thinking about performing this piece, they should listen to a recording a few times to become acquainted with it.  And then they just need to be daring — to be brave enough to do it.  Be curious and be audacious!

As I’ve mentioned already, the music is physically very demanding. Harmonically it’s difficult for the chorus.  It’s challenging for everyone, including the orchestra and me.  At the same time, this is music that’s super-accessible to the audience.  There are so many colors you can bring to the performance, and as a conductor you can work with the orchestra on many of those aspects during preparation.

Frankly, if you want to introduce something new to audiences instead of always playing the same blockbusters, I can’t think of a better composition than the Psaume.

PLN: Miss Gauvin, does singing the solo soprano part in Psaume XLVII make you curious to investigate other vocal scores by Schmitt, seeing as how he composed many sets of songs along with much choral music?

Karina Gauvin: For sure.  In addition to his mélodies, I would love to sing the Psaume again as well.  But organizations need to have the resources to mount a piece that’s this big.

PLN: Maestro, do you have plans to perform Psaume XLVII in the future?

Fabien Gabel: I don’t have firm plans at the moment, but definitely I will.  For me, I thought this first time to conduct this music might be the only time in my life to do so.  It’s so intense, but it’s such a pleasure.  Now that I’ve had the experience, I would love to do it in the future — as many times as I can.

Of course, I must be offered the opportunity to perform it because it also requires important contributions from the choir and the vocalist. I’d like to explore presenting this work alongside one of the psalms of Zemlinsky, which would be a tremendous program.  Perhaps something like this can be assembled sometime.

PLN: In closing, are there any additional observations you would like to make about Psaume XLVII or Florent Schmitt’s music in general?

Karina Gauvin singing the soprano solo in Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII with the OSQ and Chorus at the Grand-Théâtre in Québec City. (Photo © Carl Langelier)

Karina Gauvin: When I think of French music of the period, it comes down to Debussy, Ravel and Schmitt.  With these three composers, you have the entire palette of French musical expression — and without any of them it wouldn’t fully cover the range of French musical artistry in those times.

Of course, these composers share similarities because they were living and working in the same period – and so we hear some of the same colors in the music.  But the music of each possesses its own unique qualities, too.

As for Psaume XLVII, I’m excited to see how it all comes together in the concert.  Our rehearsals up to now haven’t been in the hall but in a space that’s more like a gymnasium, and so it’s hard to know how it’s actually going to sound.  But we’ll have the opportunity to find out in our dress rehearsal later on today.

Fabien Gabel: More and more, I am trying to promote Florent Schmitt’s music.  I talk to young musicians and suggest that they explore his output.  I talk to soloist friends of mine, trying to interest them in Schmitt’s concertante works.  As a result, more people are now aware of the value of the music.

This is how it works — and slowly but surely Schmitt’s music is reclaiming its rightful position, whereas it had been a missing part of the French repertoire for too long.

It’s true that Schmitt can be a challenging “sell” when I am guest-conducting orchestras, but the successes are happening more frequently now. For instance, I’ll be conducting Rêves in Perth, Australia in October.  That opportunity came about when I sent a link to a recording of the music and the orchestra responded, “OK, let’s do it.”

That’s the process; I send some links, ask people to listen carefully, and hopefully it falls on fertile ground. It is certainly worth it to make the effort — and doubly satisfying when it results in more performances of Schmitt’s extraordinary music.

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We are fortunate that consummate musical artists like Karina Gauvin and Fabien Gabel are doing their part to bring the artistry of Florent Schmitt to more audiences. For sure, It would be wonderful if they are able to present Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII in more places.

Even more importantly, they seem like the natural musicians to explore Schmitt’s vocal scores, many of which the composer orchestrated as well. Worthy compositions like Quatre poèmes de Ronsard, Trois chants, Musique sur l’eau and others await new champions in the modern era.

While he was a flautist and organist, French composer Florent Schmitt’s main instrument was the piano. So it should come as little surprise that when we look at Schmitt’s extensive catalogue of 138 opus numbers plus several additional creations, piano works comprise the largest single component of his output.

On the other hand, Schmitt’s most famous compositions are ones that feature the orchestra — he was a brilliant orchestrator in the grandest post-Rimsky tradition — but as it turns out, his piano pieces are every bit as inventive and worthy.

As Schmitt’s career moved into its latter phase beginning in the mid-1930s, the composer would devote more of his creative energies to works for vocalists as well as smaller groups of instruments. But Schmitt also brought out several sets of works for solo piano during this period, including:

• Trois dances, Op. 86 (1936)
• Chaine brisée, Op. 87 (1937)
• Small Gestures, Op. 92 (1940)
• Enfants, Op. 94 (1940-41)

Ivo Kaltchev

The last two in particular are interesting in that they are more intimate in their conception. Of these two works the Bulgarian-American pianist Ivo Kaltchev has written, “[They display] a quite different aspect of Schmitt’s creative explorations, which is his fascination with the child’s world.”

And of Small Gestures in particular, Kaltchev notes:

“With their simplicity, elegance and wit, Small Gestures is not only a fine example of contemporary neo-classical style but also an insightful counterpart to Schumann’s Kinderszenen, Debussy’s Children’s Corner and Fauré’s Dolly Suite.”

Interestingly, Small Gestures is the only composition of Florent Schmitt’s whose title is in English.  Whereas at first blush this may seem curious, the explanation is actually quite simple:  The suite was created at the request of the New York City-based Carl Fischer music firm, which published the score under the English title as part of its Masters of Our Day series of pieces designed for piano instruction.

If ever there was an apt title for a piece of music, it’s this one. Indeed, these “small gestures” are perfection personified.  Collectively taking fewer than six minutes to perform, each of the three pieces in the suite describes a particular motion or action:

I.    Rocking

II.  Waltzing

III. Pacing

Within the three movements, Schmitt employs a masterful economy in conveying the “essence” of each gesture, trimming his oftentimes complex pianism down to the barest minimum. The effect is extraordinarily effective.

To my ears, the first movement (“Rocking”) has a bit of a Slavic flavor to it, while the second movement (“Waltzing”) is reminiscent of Schmitt’s waltz sequences in other compositions such as Trois rapsodies, Feuillets de voyage and Á Tour d’anches.

The final movement (“Pacing”) suggests similar walking/marching characteristics that crop up in other Schmitt compositions as diverse as Chansons à quatre voix, Trois trios, and even the first movement of the Symphony No. 2, the composer’s penultimate creation.

The simplicity of the writing in Small Gestures happens to make these pieces accessible to pianists of only modest technical acumen.  For that reason, their relative obscurity is difficult to understand.  Certainly, these winsome pieces should be “standards” in the piano student repertoire as much for their technical approachability as for their charming musicality.

Pianist Ivo Kaltchev, photographed for the release of his recording featuring solo piano music of Florent Schmitt (2001).

The obscurity of Small Gestures extends to its presence on recordings — or lack thereof.  To my knowledge, there has been only one commercial recording ever made of the music — part of a program of Schmitt solo piano works recorded in January 2001 by Ivo Kaltchev at the Bulgaria Concert Hall in Sofia and released on the Gega label.

As a pianist who has also made very desirable recordings of the music of Claude Debussy and Charles Tomlinson Griffes, Mr. Kaltchev’s interpretation is a thoroughly idiomatic and winsome one, which you can hear for yourself via this link (courtesy of Philippe Louis’ fantastic YouTube music channel).

I encourage you to give Small Gestures a listen.  See if you aren’t completely captivated by these little gems.

A vintage study score for Florent Schmitt’s late-career Chants alizés for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn, published by Durand in 1955.

In his later period of composition, French composer Florent Schmitt would turn to the sonorities of wind instruments for a goodly number of his creations. This may seem surprising for an artist who had made his reputation on his numerous “big orchestra” compositions along with a noteworthy collection of “orientalist” creations.

But if we recall that one of Schmitt’s own three instruments was the flute (along with the piano and organ), along with his widely acknowledged mastery in his use of wind instruments in his orchestral compositions, the later emphasis on creations for wind instrumentalists makes sense.

As well, as Schmitt’s later compositional style transitioned to a more spare, less fin de siècle approach to writing, creating pieces for small groups of wind instruments was only natural.  Among the highly interesting oeuvre of Florent Schmitt in the realm of winds during the last two decades of the composer’s life (he passed away in 1958) are these works:

• A tour d’anches, Op. 97 for oboe, clarinet, bassoon and piano (1939-43)
• Quatuor, Op. 102 for four saxophones (1943)
• Quatuor, Op. 106 for four flutes (1946)
• Quatuor, Op. 109 for three trombones and tuba (1946)
• Chants alizés, Op. 125 for flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn (1951-55)
• Sextuor, Op. 128 for six clarinets (1953)
• Suite en quatre parties, Op. 129 for flute and piano (1954)
• Suite en trois parties, Op. 133 for trumpet and piano (1955)

Cyrillic, anyone? The first commercial recording of Florent Schmitt’s Chants alizés emanated from the Soviet Union (mid-1970s).

Of these eight compositions, Chants alizés, Opus 125 (loosely translated, the title means “Trade Winds”) features the most diverse group of musicians — four woodwind instruments (flute, oboe, clarinet and bassoon) plus the French horn.

We know that Florent Schmitt worked on this piece beginning in the early 1950s, although sources vary on the exact years of its composition. Yves Hucher cites the year 1951 in his 1953 biography of the composer, but then augments this information in his 1960 book about Schmitt’s catalogue of creations to indicate 1955 as the year of publication.  And indeed, the date of April 1955 is shown on the score as published by Durand.

The 2000 recording by the Prague Wind Quintet (Praga label).

[To further confuse matters, the CD booklet for the Prague Wind Quintet’s 2000 recording of Chants alizés lists the competition’s years of creation as 1952-57 — none of which matches the other documentation.]

We do know that the piece was composed for the wind quintet of the Orchestre National de l’ORTF, whose names are listed on the score:

• Fernand Dufrène (flute)
• Jules Goetgheluck (oboe)
• Maurice Cliquennais (clarinet)
• René Plessier (bassoon)
• Louis Courtinat (French horn)

Members of the Quintette à Vent de l’Orchestre National, photographed in 1952, the same year Florent Schmitt’s Chants alizés was premiered in a broadcast over French National Radio.

Fittingly, the premiere performance of the piece was made by these gentlemen in a broadcast over French National Radio on March 28, 1952.

Members of the Prague Wind Quintet, pictured in 2000 at the time its recording of Florent Schmitt’s Chants alizés was made.

As a composition, Chants alizés is impressive.  In the span of fewer than 20 minutes, Schmitt takes on an inventive journey that touches on many moods.  Its four movements are as follows:

I.  D’un gravité quelque peu martiale (“With a Somewhat Martial Solemnity”) — exhibiting what some sense as a Versailles-like pomp (or at the very least a very French feeling)

II.  Scherzo — very characteristic of Schmitt’s skittering, humorous dialog between groups of instruments — in this case the chattering of the flute, oboe and clarinet contrasted with the bassoon’s “commentary”

III. Lent — conjuring up a pastoral scene with a poignant cantilena given to the oboe

IV.  Ronde en losange (“Round Diamond”) — characteristic of the final movements of so many of Schmitt’s set pieces (Suite en rocaille, Hasards, Enfants, A Tour d’anches, Pour presque tous les temps, etc.), this particular scene evokes the progressive leaps of children playing hopscotch and finding themselves “feet together” at the end. But unlike those other compositions, the final movement of Chants alizés is the lengthiest of the four at nearly six minutes in duration.

The first page of the score for Florent Schmitt’s Chants alizés, published by Durand in 1955. Notice the dedicatees — members of the Quintette à Vent de l’Orchestre National.

Considering this composer’s output, it isn’t surprising that Chants alizés is a challenging piece for performers to tackle.  According to musicologist and author Pierre Barbier, the work is considered one of the most difficult scores in the repertoire.  (One is reminded of the remark by American violinist and conductor John McLaughlin Williams who has performed numerous pieces by the composer:  “There is no easy Schmitt!”)

First recording: USSR Wind Quintet (Melodiya, mid-1970s).

While Chants alizés has not fared as well on recordings or in recital as Florent Schmitt’s 1938 work A tour d’anches for oboe, clarinet, bassoon and piano, we are fortunate to have several quality commercial recordings that have been made of this music, including:

• USSR Wind Quintet (Valentin Zverev, flute; Anatoly Lyubimov, oboe; Vladimir Sokolov, clarinet; Sergei Krasavin, bassoon, Anatole Demin, French horn) … released on the Melodiya label (recorded ca. 1975)
  
• Quintette à Vent de Paris (Jacques Castagner, flute; Robert Casier, oboe; André Boutard, clarinet; Paul Hongne, bassoon; Michel Bergès, French horn) … released on the Adès label as part of a 4-LP set of wind compositions from the first half of the 20th century created by 15 French composers (recorded in 1980)
  
• Prague Wind Quintet (Jan Riedlbauch, flute; Jurij Likin, oboe, Vlastimil Mareš, clarinet; Miloš Wichterle, bassoon; Vladimira Klánská, horn) … released on the Praga label (recorded in 2000)

The Adès recording of Florent Schmitt’s Chants alizés, part of a big 4-LP boxed set of works for wind ensemble by 15 French composers. (1980).

Unfortunately, only one of these recordings remains in print today — the very fine rendition by the Prague Wind Quintet dating from 2000. You can hear just how good the performance is by listening to it here, courtesy of Philippe Louis’ YouTube music channel.

As for future recordings that may be in the works, word on the street is that a new recording of Chants alizés by the Initium Ensemble will be released by Timpani Records, hopefully in the coming year.

Members of the Initium Ensemble strike a pose at one of their concert performances.

I first wrote about this news several years ago, but recent correspondence confirms that the recording project is slated for completion after several delays caused by the international touring schedules of several members of the ensemble.

We look forward to hearing the new recording with anticipation — and indeed, to hearing more of this fascinating composition in the recital hall.

Over the past 20 years, the vast majority of Florent Schmitt’s music for piano solo has been rediscovered by a new generation of music-lovers. Moreover, nearly all of this music has been commercially recorded at least one time.

However, one piano composition, Pupazzi, Opus 36 (Puppets), hasn’t been part of the revival, and the work has yet to receive its first-ever recording.  This “petite suite,” composed by Schmitt in 1907, consists of eight short character sketches of Commedia dell’Arte figures, including:

• Scaramouche
• Aminte
• Damis
• Eglé
• Cassandre
• Atys
• Clymène
• Arlequin

The piano score for Florent Schmitt’s Pupazzi was originally published in 1909 by A. Z. Mathot, and later re-released by Salabert.

The eight movements are described by Yves Hucher, Florent Schmitt’s biographer, as “light, witty and delightful evocations — more cheerful than those of Schumann’s Carnaval and more tender than Verlaine’s Fêtes galantes.”

Looking at the piano score, it’s a mystery to me why this set of pieces has languished in total obscurity while nearly all of the other piano music by Schmitt has been resurrected, performed, and in some cases, recorded multiple times in the modern era.

But recently, I was pleased to discover that Pupazzi has, in fact, been presented in recital in recent years. For that we can thank Linda Ippolito, a Toronto-based pianist who has had an interesting dual career in music and law.  (Despite undertaking extensive online research, I know of no other pianists who have included Schmitt’s suite in their performing repertoire.)

Linda Ippolito

A classically trained pianist who studied at Juilliard and participated in numerous national and international competitions during the 1980s, for the past 25 years Linda Ippolito has distinguished herself as both a classical pianist (recitalist, soloist with orchestras, vocal collaborator and duo pianist), and as a founder and senior partner at the Toronto-based law firm of Sheridan, Ippolito & Associates. Her activities combine both of her passions, working “at the intersection of music and conflict resolution,” as she puts it.

Upon discovering that Linda Ippolito had included Florent Schmitt’s Pupazzi in a series of concert programs she presented in 2013 in Canada on the theme of Commedia dell’Arte, I got in touch with her to learn more about her experience in introducing Schmitt’s score to audiences. Highlights of our interesting discussion are presented below.

PLN: How did you first discover Florent Schmitt’s Pupazzi score — considering that it’s such a rarity?

LMI: I have long been fascinated by the Commedia dell’Arte and its archetypal characters which have appeared in art and literature across many cultures and centuries.  In time, I decided to create a concert event themed around clowns, puppets, marionettes, and these stock theatre characters.

Damis

In looking for repertoire, I turned to the Internet and searched for music using terms pertaining to puppets, clowns, marionettes and so forth.  This led me to the IMSLP database [International Music Score Library Project] where I came across the Pupazzi Suite by Florent Schmitt.  The score consisted of eight short selections and introduced me to some Commedia characters with which I was unfamiliar.

I was very excited to discover this work.

PLN: What other pieces did you present as part of this themed program?

LMI: The program was shaped beginning with pieces that I knew because of my longstanding love of the Commedia, featured in so many musical works from Schumann’s Carnaval to Stravinsky’s Pétrouchka.

Pianist Linda Ippolito has been a featured soloist at the Canadian Opera Company’s Piano Virtuoso recital series at Toronto’s Four Seasons Centre for more than a decade.

The program, which I first presented as a noontime hour recital for the Canadian Opera Company‘s Piano Virtuoso Series at the Four Seasons Centre [Richard Bradshaw Amphitheatre], was entitled “Lunch with Punch.” Later, when I did it as an evening recital at Toronto’s Jazz Bistro it was entitled “Send in the Clowns.”

The program was comprised of mostly rare selections, beginning with an opening group including Villa-Lobos’ O Polichinello, Frank Bridge’s Columbine and Debussy’s Golliwog’s Cake Walk from The Children’s Corner Suite.

A sort of Pétrouchka suite (Punch, Ballerina and the Moor) in fun form followed Florent Schmitt’s Pupazzi Suite. After that it was Rachmaninoff’s Pulcinella, Cyril Scott’s Columbine, Billy Mayerl’s Puppets Suite, and the concert closed with Pierre-Max Dubois’ Arlequin et Pantalon.

Fittingly, as an encore I played a solo piano version of Sondheim’s Send in the Clowns.

The 2013 “Lunch with Punch” piano recital presented by pianist Linda Ippolito. Florent Schmitt’s Pupazzi was performed alongside other Commedia dell’Arte-inspired selections by Heitor Villa-Lobos, Frank Bridge, Claude Debussy, Sergei Rachmaninov, Billy Mayerl, Pierre-Max Dubois and Cyril Scott.

PLN: That’s quite a rich and varied program!  What were your initial impressions of Pupazzi when you first read through the score?

LMI: I found it whimsical, fun, lyrically plaintive, and quirky – in short, all of the elements I was looking for in my program.

I also noted a number of challenging technical passages in what appeared otherwise to be a misleadingly straightforward score.

I immediately saw the great potential of this unknown work.

PLN: The suite contains eight movements.  Did you present all of them in your recital?

LMI: As each portrait is its own special gem — and nearly all of them are quite short — I decided to present the entire suite instead of just excerpts.

PLN: Thinking about the individual movements of the suite, each of which are named for a particular puppet character, are there any that you find to be particularly winsome — or possibly unique in some ways?

LMI: I’d say that they are all very much unique!

Scaramouche

The first movement is Scaramouche, which has a sense of exaggerated villainous mischief. Musically, it and several others in the suite remind me of Grieg.

Aminte, which has a gorgeous opening and closing motif, made me think of Prokofiev’s Romeo & Juliet; it has a melody that I could hear a bassoon playing, surrounded by a crossover accompaniment.

Damis, almost reminiscent of Grieg, has a folk-like rich simplicity, while Eglé has some wickedly tricky passages that made me hold my breath each time I played them.  Deceivingly simple, this movement reminded me of Poulenc’s Villageoises — like the Prokofiev Romeo & Juliet, a work composed much later than the Schmitt.

Cassandre is whimsical and fun, followed by Atys which is like a Schubertian ländler.

Clymène

Clymène is a beautifully lyrical and plaintive barcarole, with harmonies that remind me of one of the British Romantic composers; it became an immediate favorite.

The last piece in the suite is the Arlequin – another folk movement. Very Grieg-like, it captures the Harlequin character perfectly with lots of “flash and dash” — along with a troubadour melody in the middle and at the end, as the bell-like frolic of the climax spins itself out and the troubadour melody disappears into the distance.

PLN: When comparing the pianistic style of Schmitt to other French keyboard composers of the period – people like Debussy, Ravel and Dukas – what aspects of Schmitt’s style are similar … and what are different?

LMI: It’s interesting that you ask this.  In actuality, I did not do a lot of research into Schmitt the composer at the time that I discovered the Pupazzi Suite, and I didn’t discern from the musical style of the piece that he was a contemporary of Debussy, Ravel and Dukas.

The music did not strike me as being particularly Impressionistic (either stylistically or harmonically) but rather, more late-Romantic in character — reminiscent of some of the Russians (like Arensky) or German composers of the early 20th century (like Richard Strauss).

Also, I found the music definitely folk-like and seemingly simple in its lines (like Grieg, as well as some Poulenc — who of course came along later).

PLN: Do you recall the audience reaction to Pupazzi when you presented the piece in recital?  I’m guessing that no one hearing it was familiar with the music beforehand …

Arlequin

LMI: The suite was very well received by all of the audiences who heard the program. Indeed, they were delighted to hear something new with which they were unfamiliar – a discovery for all of us!

PLN: Since the 2013 events, have you had the chance to present this music on any other occasions?

LMI: I have not repeated this particular themed program, and so I haven’t had the opportunity to perform these pieces since then.

PLN: You’ve had a very interesting – indeed fascinating — professional career.  In addition to being a professional pianist, you are also an attorney specializing in Family Law.  Please tell us tell a bit about how you came to have this dual career.

LMI: I came to this dual career literally by accident.  While studying for an international piano competition, I sustained a hand injury and needed to take time away from the instrument for recovery and rehab.  To occupy myself during that time, I decided to follow a friend who was taking the LSAT exam.  I then applied to law school myself and was accepted.

During law school in Toronto, I co-founded a musical society at the University and organized concerts with fellow students and professors who were singers and instrumentalists. Since finishing law school and being called to the bar in 1994, I have continued to perform as well as work full-time as a lawyer in private practice.  (Our Toronto firm, Sheridan, Ippolito & Associates, has just celebrated its 25th year of practice.)

My musical work was primarily as a collaborative pianist with vocalists but eventually, once fully recovered, I recommenced my solo piano performing.

Being heavily involved in negotiation and settlement-related work in my legal career, my ensemble music-making skills have been very beneficial to those endeavors as well as to my creative thinking. In fact, I consider that these qualities have been hallmarks of my style and approach throughout my professional career as a lawyer.

PLN: What have been some of your more recent musical activities?

LMI: Last year I presented four solo concerts – one in New York and three at different venues in Toronto.  Those concerts featured impromptus and improvisations by various composers of the 20th century.

In addition, this year I’ve recorded two compositions by André Previn: his Vocalise and also the Four Songs for Soprano, Cello & Piano.

PLN: Have you found ways to blend your musical and legal expertise through any particular activities or outreach?

LMI: Absolutely.  In 2007 I began work on a Masters in Law, researching the role of collaborative music-making as an innovative tool in conflict resolution and peace-building.  My research focused on where collaborative vocal music-making, in particular, has been used to bridge lines of divide in armed conflict situations in South Africa, the former Yugoslavia, Cyprus, the Middle East and Northern Ireland, among other regions.

I then continued with my academic studies and completed a PhD in Law in 2015 — again focusing on the intersection of music and conflict resolution. This time, I examined how we might shift dominant culture-disputing metaphors and mindsets from those of war and games to that of the musical ensemble – realizing that no one party can achieve a negotiated outcome without the consensus and full participation of all parties to the dispute.

My PhD research proposed not only reframing disputes and approaches to dispute resolution in this manner, but also explored building creative capacities through the use of music-based teaching and learning modalities.

PLN: What new projects — musical or otherwise — are on the horizon for you?

LMI: My new book, Music, Leadership and Conflict: The Art of Ensemble Negotiation and Problem-Solving [published in the Palgrave Macmillan series of Business, the Arts and the Humanities] has just been released and I am now looking forward to the official launch of that work.

Based upon that output, this fall I will teach a course entitled “Creativity and Collaboration” in the Executive Masters program in Dispute Resolution at Osgoode Hall Law School in Toronto. The course will use an entirely arts-immersed pedagogy.

On the musical front, I am starting to read through some new music with a view to presenting a concert in the spring — stay tuned!

PLN: Will there be other opportunities for music-lovers to see and hear you perform Schmitt’s Pupazzi?

LMI: Hopefully yes!  Beyond that, I am now looking into exploring some of Florent Schmitt’s other piano compositions as well.

PLN: In conclusion, are there any additional observations you have about Florent Schmitt and his musical legacy?

Cassandre

LMI: I am very happy to have discovered Schmitt’s piano music.  When I was first researching the Commedia program I was completely focused on finding music on that theme.  The Pupazzi was a wonderful, whimsical, and musically rewarding addition to the program.

Since then, having learned more about Florent Schmitt and his output, I am intrigued to play through more of his music to see what other hidden gems are there — and to bring these rediscoveries to a new generation of music-lovers.

I love presenting lesser known works and exposing audiences to wonderful composers outside of the mainstream. Schmitt fits that bill perfectly — and he certainly has a large output to draw from.  I look forward to exploring it in depth.

_____________________

Likewise, we are definitely looking forward to Linda Ippolito’s continuing exploration of Florent Schmitt’s piano compositions — and of course we’re particularly grateful for her resurrection of Pupazzi. Now that she has brought the score to light, hopefully more pianists will take a look at this interesting and inventive music and add it to their repertoire.

Florent Schmitt’s own orchestral arrangement of six movements from his piano suite Pupazzi was published in 1911 by A. Z. Mathot. Today a reprint is available print-on-demand from Kalmus.

Moreover, just as he did with so many of his other piano scores, Florent Schmitt orchestrated six of the eight movements of Pupazzi (all but Aminte and Arlequin) for small orchestra.  Those arrangements were published by A. Z. Mathot in 1911.

Having looked at the score, in my view there’s no question that these arrangements would be a welcome addition to any concert program.  Here’s hoping enterprising conductors of smaller ensembles — Schmitt advocates Frank Braley, David Grandis, David Leibowitz, Julien Masmondet, Elias Miller, Eckhart Preu and John McLaughlin Williams among them — will carefully consider the possibility.

Unfortunately, we don’t have recorded documentation of Linda Ippolito performing Schmitt’s Pupazzi suite … but we do have her eloquent account of Claude Debussy’s L’Ile joyeuse as presented live at Jazz Bistro in Toronto in 2015.  You can view that performance here, courtesy of YouTube.

Florent Schmitt, photographed with Igor and Vera Stravinsky at a reception at the American Embassy in Paris in the fall of 1957, about the time Schmitt was creating his Messe en quatre parties. Schmitt would complete the Mass in May 1958, three months before his death.

Many music-lovers I know are under the mistaken impression that Florent Schmitt’s Symphony No. 2, Op. 137 was the last piece the composer created.  It’s a reasonable supposition because the Symphony received its premiere performance in Strasbourg on June 15, 1958, by the French National Radio Orchestra under the direction of Charles Munch, just two months before the composer’s death.

But in actuality, there is another piece that Schmitt completed after his Second Symphony: the Messe en quatre parties, Op. 138.  It’s a work that Schmitt began composing in mid-August of 1957 while on holiday in Kiruna, the northernmost city in Sweden (located in Lapland near the Arctic Circle).

This was to be Florent Schmitt’s last journey outside France for an intrepid traveler who had visited countless countries far and wide over many decades. (Schmitt’s last passport, issued when he was 85 years old, contains more than 40 visa stamps.)

Despite the notable reception of the Second Symphony as praised by musicians and critics alike — not to mention its growing popularity in recent times thanks to advocacy on the part of conductors as diverse as Leif Segerstam, Leonard Slatkin, Fabien Gabel, JoAnn Falletta and Sakari Oramo (the latter of whom made a prized Chandos recording of the music with the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 2018) – as a composition I feel that the Mass is every bit as worthy as the Symphony.

A vintage copy of the choral parts for Florent Schmitt’s Messe en quatre parties, composed in 1957-58 and published by Durand.

Indeed, the Mass is a significant piece in several respects.  First, vocal and choral music had always been an abiding interest of Schmitt’s, who would return again and again to the human voice throughout his seven decade-long composing career.

Without a doubt, today’s audiences are most familiar with Schmitt’s monumental 1904 setting of Psaume XLVII, but there are many more choral works along with countless chansons that came from the composer’s pen. Thankfully, more of them are beginning to come to light after decades of neglect.

The Mass is different from many of Schmitt’s compositions for voices in that the piece was clearly intended for presenting in an ecclesiastical setting.  The score calls for a four-part mixed chorus and organ, and consists of the traditional setting of the Mass (Kyrie, Credo, Sanctus + Benedictus and Agnus Dei).  The language is traditional as well – Latin rather than French – making it more universal and more accessible to church choirs around the world.

Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924) was Florent Schmitt’s mentor at the Paris Conservatoire and who Schmitt considered his finest teacher.

But there’s something else that’s noteworthy about Schmitt’s Mass.  For the most part it is a contemplative, introspective piece, and in many ways its reverential “spirit” is remindful of the sacred music created by Schmitt’s beloved teacher and mentor, Gabriel Fauré.

Of course, Florent Schmitt penned other choral pieces intended for ecclesiastical settings – such as the Cinq motets (1917), Trois liturgies joyeuses (1951), Laudate pueri, Dominum (1952) and Psaume CXII (1956).  But it is in the Mass that the composer achieved a perfect blend of the sacred with the passion and fervor that we often associate with his more “red-blooded” compositions.

The result is a piece that is endlessly fascinating – and also a score that absolutely belies the advanced age and declining health of a composer who was by then suffering from the cancer that would take his life within mere months.

The first page of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Messe en quatre parties, completed in May 1958 shortly before the composer’s death. Durand published the music posthumously in 1959.

Paul Paray (1886-1979), the French director who led more world premieres of Florent Schmitt’s compositions than any other conductor.

Schmitt’s manuscript for the Mass has May 12, 1958 marked as the date when he put the last notes to paper, mere weeks prior to the premiere of his Second Symphony.  By then quite ill, Schmitt as able to make one last out-of-town journey to Strasbourg to see his work premiered there, but thereafter would be able to receive only a few close friends at his home during the final weeks of his life.

One poignant visit was from the esteemed conductor Paul Paray who presented a copy of his new recording of La Tragédie de Salomé to the composer. (It was the first stereophonic recording of Schmitt’s most famous piece — one that would go on to win the coveted Grand Prix du Disque award for best orchestral recording of the year.)

Florent Schmitt would finally succumb to cancer, dying on August 17, 1958 at the American Hospital in Neuilly-sue-Seine. Three days later, his Messe en quatre parties received its first performance at the composer’s own Requiem Mass held at Église St-Pierre de Chaillot in the 16th Arrondissement of Paris – the same venue where the first formal public performance of the work would be presented two months later on October 10.

The Eglise St-Pierre de Chaillot in Paris, where Florent Schmitt’s funeral service was held and where his Messe en quatre parties was premiered (August and October 1958).

Yves Hucher, Schmitt’s biographer who was present at both early performances, described the music of the Mass in poetic terms, writing:

“Here, the musician gave vent to his soul … and as the wonderful score-master he was, he entrusted the organ and the human voice with his last message. 

There is a moving moderation [to the music]. A breath of cheerfulness is still in the Kyrie and the Gloria; a poignant solemnity in the Sanctus and in the Agnus; all the serenity of an artist who never failed to do his duty – the dying strains of a man always sustained by his ideal.  

Christiane de Lisle (1913-2009)

Indeed, the final testimony of his genius.”

Knowing the piece well, I concur with Hucher’s characterization. To my ears, the Mass sums up the spirit of the composer quite neatly.  There is a complex beauty about the music that reminds us that, in the end, Florent Schmitt was as much about “inner substance” as he was about “glistening sheen.”

… But for years it was well-nigh impossible for most people to hear the evidence for themselves, because Schmitt’s Mass has never been commercially recorded.

Jean-Paul Kréder

In the 1960s and 1970s the French Broadcasting System in North America issued a series of transcription disks for use by classical music radio stations in the United States and Canada.  The Messe en quatre parties was among the offerings, but it’s safe to assume that few people ever had a chance to hear the piece that way.

Besides, that particular French Broadcasting System performance, featuring organist Christiane de Lisle and vocal forces directed by Jean-Paul Kréder, couldn’t do the music full justice, what with a dry acoustic and the tepid sound of an underwhelming electric organ.

Simon Joly

Far better is a broadcast performance emanating from the BBC that was aired in 1994 and 1995. That one featured the BBC Singers and organist Andrew Parnell under the direction of veteran choral conductor Simon Joly.

It’s a performance that is wonderfully full-bodied, with a resplendent organ and a warm acoustical ambiance supporting a top-notch choir.

Andrew Parnell

And now, we can be grateful that this fine BBC performance has finally made its way to YouTube where it can be accessed and enjoyed by people all over the world.

Not only that, the audio upload is enhanced by the score which is presented in tandem with the music.  Grateful thanks go to musician and composer Jean-Marie van Bronkhorst for preparing the YouTube upload, which happens to be the 900^th one of these posted to van Bronkhorst’s estimable music channel.

A group photo of the BBC Singers taken in 1994, the choral group’s 70th anniversary year. That same year the BBC Singers prepared Florent Schmitt’s Messe en quatre parties for several broadcast programs over BBC Radio 3 in 1994 and 1995.

You can listen to the Mass here.  I think you’ll be struck by its musical inventiveness as much as by its quiet fervor and beauty.  The ability to follow along with the score will add immeasurably to your appreciation of the music as well.

Here’s hoping that the new visibility the Messe en quatre parties is receiving today will heighten interest and lead to new performances – particularly by some of Schmitt’s most ardent admirers in the world of choral music.  Ákos Erdös, Jerrad Fenske, Laurent Grégoire, Maud Hamon-Loisance, Sofi Jeannin, Marieke Koster, Teresa Majka-Pacanek, Pascal Mayer, Timothy Pahel, Gilbert Patenaude, David Rompré, Scott Tucker, David Wordsworth … who’s game?

Regular readers of the Florent Schmitt Website + Blog know that occasionally we “relax the routine” a bit and delve into the artistry of other composers — particularly ones who lived and worked in the same time period as Schmitt.  (See, for example, these articles about Stravinsky, Ravel and Zandonai.)

A photo of French composer Max d’Ollone, taken about the time he won the Prix de Rome first prize for composition in 1897.

Another such person is Max d’Ollone, a French composer who was nearly an exact contemporary of Florent Schmitt. Schmitt lived from 1870 to 1958, whereas d’Ollone was born in 1875 and died in 1959, one year after Schmitt.

Not surprisingly, the two composers were well-acquainted as fellow students at the Paris Conservatoire — d’Ollone having entered the school at a younger age than Schmitt.  Both were students in Jules Massenet‘s composition class, but whereas Schmitt would soon shift to Gabriel Fauré’s class, d’Ollone remained one of Massenet’s prized pupils for several years.

Indeed, it was Massenet who encouraged the young Max d’Ollone to compete in the Prix de Rome competition.  He would do so three times, finally being awarded the first prize for composition in 1897 for his cantata Frédégonde. At only 25 years old, d’Ollone was one of the youngest recipients of the Prix de Rome award.

Interestingly, Schmitt and d’Ollone were rivals for the prize twice — not only in 1897 but also in the prior year when both composers competed for the prize with the cantata Mélusine.

Even though Schmitt was d’Ollone’s elder by five years, in this, his first attempt at the prize, it’s quite clear that Schmitt’s compositional “chops” weren’t nearly as polished as his younger colleague’s.  Even so, the newspaper Le Gaulois noted that although it was “incoherent, inexperienced and clumsy,” Schmitt’s score was also “very interesting, displaying true musicianship.”

The article concluded that Schmitt’s score was “very modern, very earnest, and composed spontaneously, rather than being put together to please the members of the Institut” (who were the judges of the competition).

Villa Medici, Rome

Florent Schmitt would compete for the Prix de Rome a total of five times, finally winning the first prize in 1900. For this reason, Schmitt and d’Ollone’s time in Rome did not overlap.  (Among the benefits of winning the competition was a residency of 24 months at the Villa Medici along with a handsome monetary stipend, enabling the prizewinners to devote their entire energies to creative endeavors.)

Following their Prix de Rome experiences, the trajectory of Schmitt and d’Ollone’s musical development diverged somewhat. Whereas Schmitt was adventurous in the kind of music he created, d’Ollone stayed more true to the compositional style of the nineteenth century — and always keeping an emphasis on lyricism.  Following in the footsteps of his teacher Massenet, the younger composer created nearly a dozen operas, whereas Schmitt would write nary a single one during his seven decades-long career.

One similarity we see with both artists, however, was the relative neglect that befell their music following their deaths. For Florent Schmitt, a renaissance that began about 25 years ago has continued to gather momentum in recent times, whereas Max d’Ollone has not been so fortunate.

Today there are only a few commercial recordings that feature the music of d’Ollone.  One of them, however, is particularly significant.  It is a handsome, limited edition 150-page hardbound book housing two CDs containing newly made recordings of d’Ollone’s three Prix de Rome cantatas along with several unpublished orchestral compositions.

Published in 2012 by Palazzetto Bru Zane as Volume 4 in its critically acclaimed Collection Prix de Rome series, this painstakingly researched, beautifully produced volume had a print run of just 3,000 copies — each one individually numbered.  (My own copy is ink-stamped 1,868.)

One of the most interesting and worthy recording initiatives of the past decade, the Palezzetto Bru Zane’s Collection Prix de Rome has focused on a number of French composers from the late nineteenth century. In addition to Max d’Ollone, other volumes in the collection include Gustave Charpentier, Claude Debussy, Paul Dukas, Charles Gounod and Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns.

In addition to this very special volume, a CD containing several published d’Ollone scores of orchestral and concertante works with the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra conducted by Lawrence Foster was released a decade earlier on the Claves label, which is how the Franco-American conductor David Grandis became acquainted with Max d’Ollone and his creative output.

David Grandis

A native of France, Maestro Grandis has made his musical career in the United States. At present, he is director of orchestras and professor of conducting at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia.  He is also the artistic director and chief conductor of the Virginia Chamber Orchestra, an ensemble that is based in the Washington, DC metropolitan area.

True to his national and cultural heritage, Maestro Grandis has an abiding love for French classical music, including introducing less familiar composers and their compositions to concert-goers. One special passion is for the music of Max d’Ollone.  In addition to programming his works, Grandis has written about the composer and his artistry.

Among the fruits of Maestro Grandis’ labors are two upcoming concerts that will feature the music of d’Ollone. One is a chamber music concert where the composer’s 1921 Piano Trio in A Minor and his 1949 Piano Quartet in E Minor will be performed at the College of William and Mary on April 26, 2020.  The pianist Patrice d’Ollone, the composer’s grandson (and a composer in his own right), will be featured in this concert, along with the Ambrosia Quartet, a Tidewater-based ensemble whose members are musicians in the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

The William and Mary Symphony Orchestra

The following month, Maestro Grandis will present a concert of d’Ollone’s orchestral music with the William and Mary Symphony Orchestra in Richmond, Virginia (May 2, 2020). Patrice d’Ollone will participate in this concert as well, performing his grandfather’s Fantaisie for Piano & Orchestra along with one of his own concertante works.

Recognizing how unique and significant these upcoming concerts are — certainly in North America but internationally as well — I contacted David Grandis to ask him about his keen interest in this lesser-known French composer, as well as his efforts to introduce Max d’Ollone’s works to a new generation of music-lovers. Highlights of our very interesting discussion are presented below.

PLN: When did you first learn about the composer Max d’Ollone and his music?

DFG: I learned of Max d’Ollone while writing my thesis about French lyrical diction and discovered a few of his operas through the French broadcasting archives (INA). He composed eleven operas in all [Le Passant (1889), Jean (1904), Le Retour (1911), L’Étrangère (1911), Les Amants de Rimini (1915), Les Uns et les autres (1922), L’Arlequin (1924), Olympe de Clèves (1929), Georges Dandin (1930), La Samaritaine (1937), and Sous le saule (1950)]. But there are recordings of just two of them available in the INA archives [French National Radio/Television] — Le Retour and La Samaritaine.

PLN: Which pieces by d’Ollone did you encounter first?  What special appeal did they have for you?

DFG: I looked into his symphonic production and could find only one recording of his music available — a disk on the Claves label with his Fantaisie for piano, Le Ménétrier for violin and orchestra, and his beautiful Lamento which I immediately fell in love with.  

I later discovered Les Villes maudites through the Palazzetto Bru Zane recording and found it equally fascinating.

PLN: How would you characterize the musical style of Max d’Ollone?  In what ways does it sound similar to the music of other French composers of the period … and in what ways is it different?

DFG: D’Ollone’s music shows an elegant Ravelian orchestration, delicate Fauréan harmonies, and sweeping melodic gestures typical of Massenet, his teacher.  

A photograph of Jules Massenet, taken in his living quarters at the Villa Medici in 1865. Some 32 years later Massenet’s prize pupil, Max d’Ollone, would follow in his teacher’s footsteps by winning the Prix de Rome first prize for composition.

It isn’t particularly innovative music.  D’Ollone was rooted in a firm devotion to melody, and consequently his criticisms of atonality were quite harsh. He was not interested in creating a new language — or in stretching tonality like Charles Koechlin, Florent Schmitt or Albert Roussel were doing. His main concern was the beauty of the line.  

I’d say that he’s a lyrical composer in all his creations; he produced many art songs which are gaining more recognition in France these days as a successor of Fauré and Duparc.  

Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924)

And when I listen to his Piano Quartet in E Minor from 1949, I feel this is something Fauré could have composed had he lived longer into the 20^th century. It seems to be an extension of Fauré’s ideals — perhaps more than Fauré’s students.

With Fauré being assiduously non-intrusive in his teaching style and respecting the personality of his students, it’s no surprise that Schmitt, Koechlin and Ladmirault all evolved in very different directions. But d’Ollone, who never studied with him, seems to me closer to what an evolution of Fauré’s style might well have been.

PLN: Max d’Ollone and Florent Schmitt are almost exact contemporaries.  How well did the two know one another?  In what ways did they interact — during the time of their studies, and also later on during the period of their most significant creative activity? 

DFG: They knew each other very well: they both competed for the Prix de Rome in 1896, and Max d’Ollone won second place, whereas Florent Schmitt did not receive any prize that year (he won the first prize five years later in 1900). Schmitt congratulated d’Ollone in a letter, writing, “With a slight tinge of selfishness, I am enchanted that you will remain my fellow student for a bit longer.” 

For his part, d’Ollone lauded Schmitt’s effort to respect the classicists and offered to play his Piano Quintet. I don’t know how long their relationship lasted, but I’d guess that their paths crossed often in the ensuing decades, with both of them Parisian-based and living until the late 1950s.

PLN: It seems that d’Ollone and Schmitt shared a similar fate following their deaths in that their music disappeared rather rapidly from the concert hall.  This was not the case with Debussy and Ravel, of course, but also with Dukas, Roussel, Honegger and others whose music survived them.  To what do you attribute this relative neglect?

DFG: Undoubtedly, it’s French people’s lack of interest in their own musical culture. It’s true that it was particularly difficult to exist as a composer next to such giants as Debussy and Ravel, but indeed, there were many exceptional composers in that period who deserve better recognition.  

A 1927 gathering of esteemed French composers (members of the Prix Heugel jury).

I find it pretty fascinating how Germany and Austria are different in that they have produced many geniuses but very few “little masters” (and I am reluctant to use these terms as they might sound condescending), but let us say “masters who are not necessarily on the same level of importance in the history of music as the milestone geniuses.” Zemlinsky, Schreker, Wolf, and maybe Franz Schmidt are rare examples.  

I cannot believe composers like Draeseke, Reinecke, Goldmark, Raff or Goetz can stand the comparison to Schmitt, Roussel, Koechlin, Dukas, Ropartz, Magnard and Cras in France, to name just some. And yet those composers are performed in Germany. In France, even Chausson and Lalo are not performed nearly as much as they should (and please, let’s program something else other than Chausson’s Poème or Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole!). 

However, salvation often comes from abroad; Sir Colin Davis was the first conductor to record Berlioz’s complete works. English audiences have been always appreciative of French music, and I feel it is the same in the United States. I never have any trouble programming unusual French pieces, and they often receive an enthusiastic response from the audience.  

It is necessary to encourage American conductors to go down this path and explore more within this wonderful repertoire!

PLN: Thankfully, in the past two decades Florent Schmitt’s music has been having a renaissance.  What have been the major milestones so far in efforts to reintroduce the compositions of Max d’Ollone to music-lovers?

The Claves release of orchestral and concertante works by Max d’Ollone, with Lawrence Foster conducting the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra (2003).

DFG: Apart from the Claves disk and the excellent set from Palazzetto Bru Zane, it’s been next to nothing, I’m afraid. I haven’t noticed an opera by d’Ollone being programmed anywhere in France for several decades.

His symphonic music should have little trouble being incorporated in season programming and yet, nothing either. But the same can be said for many other French composers. When was the last time we heard Gabriel Dupont’s Chant de la destinée — or without going into a completely forgotten composer, Franck’s Le Chasseur maudit?  

There has been this persistent belief that programing should include mainly blockbuster pieces (Dvorak’s New World, Beethoven’s Fifth, Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto and so forth) along with generous lashings of Mahler and Shostakovich, in order to attract audiences. This strategy has mostly failed.  

Audiences might not even be familiar with some of the blockbuster works anymore in some cases, or be more inquisitive and desiring to discover new pieces. Now, unfortunately, programming is taking many ancillary parameters into consideration which can be more political than artistic — and this will be its next pitfall.

PLN: How about your personal efforts?  When did the d’Ollone mission begin for you, and what was the catalyst?

DFG: The mission for me started when I got in touch with Max d’Ollone’s grandson Patrice and discovered pieces that had never been performed in France since their creation, never been recorded, and certainly never performed in the U.S.

There is nothing sadder than worthwhile music material slowly crumbling on a shelf.

PLN: Can you tell us as bit about the Palazzetto Bru Zane project to record d’Ollone’s Prix de Rome cantatas and other unpublished music scores?  How did this project come about, and who were the prime movers behind it? 

Alexandre Dratwicki

DFG: This is an interesting story,  Alexandre Dratwicki, musicologist and artistic director of the PBZ,  initially contacted Patrice d’Ollone to gather some information regarding the French composer Henri Rabaud who had been a close friend of Max d’Ollone, but the conversation soon veered towards his grandfather’s manuscripts which Patrice hoped to have recorded, and also the fascinating correspondence d’Ollone had had with Massenet.  

Several other volumes in the Collection Prix de Rome produced by Palazzetto Bru Zane.

Dratwicki’s efforts at PBZ were centered on the Prix de Rome creations of various composers like Henri Rabaud — but Rabaud turned out to be a bit less interesting than initially anticipated since he was awarded the Prix de Rome first prize at his very first attempt in 1894. On the other hand, d’Ollone competed for it three years in a row (1895, 1896, 1897), so there was significantly more Prix de Rome material to cover in his case.

PLN: What special challenges, if any, were there in preparing the scores for the PBZ recording?

DFG: Actually, D’Ollone’s manuscripts are very easy to read.  I cannot imagine that it was difficult for Symétrie to publish Les Villes maudites, for example, but I have heard it was a challenge for conductor Hervé Niquet to put the piece together with the orchestra in a relatively few rehearsals, pressed by the recording deadline.  

I’m currently working on Les Funérailles du poète (inspired by Victor Hugo’s funeral which Max d’Ollone attended in 1885 when he was ten years old) as well as Le Temple abandonné in preparation for our 2020 concerts.  I would say that similar to his Lamento, d’Ollone’s music is generally not too challenging for musicians to play, and nearly any orchestra could put it together in a limited number of rehearsals. Les Villes maudites is more difficult — but without approaching the level of difficulty of Koechlin or Schmitt’s works.

Prix de Rome cantatas and more: Palazzetto Bru Zane’s limited edition of Max d’Ollone’s music — Volume 4 in its acclaimed Collection Prix de Rome series.

PLN: The concerts you are organizing this coming April and May in Virginia will feature the music of Max d’Ollone, and several of them will also feature Patrice d’Ollone as pianist.  How did you become acquainted with the younger Mr. d’Ollone and how did the project develop to bring him to the United States to participate in these concerts?

Patrice d’Ollone

DFG: I contacted Alexandre Dratwicki from PBZ and he kindly put me in touch with Patrice. I loved his interpretations of his grandfather’s chamber music and offered to do the Fantaisie with him.  

In addition, I wanted to write an article about d’Ollone’s symphonic output for the Conductors’ Guild, and Patrice showed me many pieces which had lain dormant and certainly have never been recorded. Pleased with hearing my performance of the Lamento with the William and Mary Symphony Orchestra that had been presented in 2017, Patrice accepted the invitation to join us for the 2020 concerts.

PLN: In addition to being a pianist, Patrice d’Ollone is also a composer, and you will be featuring several of his pieces in your May concert.  What can you tell us about those pieces?

DFG: While he is mainly a performing artist, Patrice has composed a few things — including soundtracks for documentaries — and I have found the same attachment to lyricism in the melodic line as in his grandfather’s pieces.  

Verdun, France (1916) (Getty Images)

Two excerpts from a soundtrack for a French documentary on the Battle of Verdun plus a little Concertino for Piano & Orchestra sounded so much like Max d’Ollone, Fauré and Massenet, I thought they’d have an obvious place in the orchestral program. Reuniting grandfather and grandson seems profoundly natural!

PLN: Please tell us a bit about your background as a musician and conductor — how your interest developed, where you studied, what brought you to the United States and what your activities have been since arriving here.

DFG: I was born, raised and trained in France. I studied several instruments at the conservatory in my hometown of Nice, starting around the age of five.  

But I didn’t start thinking about pursuing a career in music until my high school graduation. This is when I started studying conducting with Pol Mule and Klaus Weise, who recommended that I continue my studies in this field in the United States. I always had a warm feelings for America, as my grandfather was a general in the French army, starting his career during the Second World War as a young officer with André Malraux, and I was raised with a sense of gratitude toward the Americans.  

David Grandis conducts the Virginia Chamber Orchestra.

So I gladly went on to do a master’s degree at the University of Illinois with Donald Schleicher, obtained a performance diploma at Peabody in Baltimore with Gustav Meier and a doctorate at the University of Wisconsin with James Smith. In the meantime, I traveled back and forth in France to be assistant conductor at the Lyon National Opera and to guest conduct several French orchestras.  

On the personal front, I met my wife in the United States 18 years ago and decided to stay. My passion for teaching led me to William and Mary where I have been working for six years now, and I continue as chief conductor of the Virginia Chamber Orchestra which is based in the Washington DC area and which I have led since 2010.

PLN: Apart from your activities regarding the Max d’Ollone project, what other special initiatives have you been involved in or are on the horizon for you?

David Grandis’ book about lyrical diction in the French operatic tradition (original English edition, 2013).

DFG: Before the d’Ollone project, I was deeply involved in writing a book in English and translating it into my native French about lyrical diction in the French operatic repertoire. I worked with many famous Francophone singers on this project, trying to document what has been lost and how to recover it. A few of these artists are certainly known to American audiences, having sung many times at the MET — people like Gabriel Bacquier, Michel Sénéchal and José van Dam. 

… and the French translation.

I have always had a strong affinity with the French musical aesthetic, intuitively understanding Debussy, Ravel — and most of all Fauré. But it took me a longer time to understand what the French idiom really was and why it was so instinctive in me.  It is not enough to be born in a country; you have to earn its culture, and it takes a lot of time to deeply appreciate it and have a global vision.  

A vintage poster for the 1950s-era TV mini-series Si Versailles m’était conté (Royal Affairs in Versailles), featuring the music of Jean Françaix.

This is not a fashionable view in France right now, since some politicians deny the fact that there is a distinct “French” culture. To cite a personal example, last year I decided to perform a short excerpt from a score by Jean Françaix.  It was from the soundtrack to a  TV mini-series from the 1950s called Si Versailles m’était conté — more precisely, the grand finale entitled À toutes les gloires de la France. Apparently, it had never been performed again since Georges Tzipine’s EMI recording in 1958.  

The publisher had lost the full score, and since it would be expensive to redo it, the publisher was hesitant. I thought the only way to force the issue would be to contact Jean Françaix’s son. Deus ex machina, I discovered that a new brother-in-law was actually a cousin of Jacques Françaix and I was able to contact him successfully. The publisher was sufficiently embarrassed, the score was remade from the material, and we performed it. I was glad to contribute to the saving of this music material. 

As I mentioned before, I’ve found American audiences to be quite open to hearing less familiar French repertoire. In the past few years I’ve conducted many French works which are rarely performed — pieces like Rabaud’s La Procéssion nocturne, Schmitt’s Soirs, d’Indy’s Fantasy on French Popular Themes, Caplet’s The Masque of the Red Death, plus Lalo’s Namouna, Le Roi d’Ys Overture and Piano Concerto.

Looking ahead, Chabrier’s Gwendoline Overture is on the horizon and maybe also Caplet’s Le Miroir de Jésus. Cras, Gaubert, Ropartz and Magnard are also possibilities, but their music is not as easy for students. This is one reason why I’ve felt the need to avoid much of Schmitt and Koechlin, but I would really love to conduct scores like La Tragédie de Salomé and Koechlin’s Vers la voûte étoilée. 

Michel Plasson

Schmitt’s Salome is a particular favorite.  I’ve never conducted the piece in concert, but I covered several rehearsals of Michel Plasson when he performed it with the Toulouse Capitole Orchestra in 2003. It is one of my fondest conducting memories. I had studied the score for two months and knew it by heart — and by that I mean I was actually able to rewrite many passages on blank paper from memory. I devoted eight hours a day on this piece for two solid months. As you can tell, I was very passionate about this work!

PLN: In closing, what are the most important aspects of Max d’Ollone’s artistry that music-lovers of today should recognize about this French composer from 100+ years ago?

DFG: I think one of the most important aspects is what I call “the cult of melody,” inherited from Rameau, Gounod, Bizet, Saint-Saëns, Massenet and Fauré. Some scholars might argue that the pinnacle of French culture was during the reign of Louis XIV, but I disagree.  The period from the Second Empire to the First World War (roughly 1850 to 1920) produced a plethora of geniuses — not only in music but also in the visual arts and in literature.  And this also happens to be the period I personally prefer.  Performing and listening to d’Ollone’s music is one more opportunity to reunite with this era.  

Max d’Ollone (1875-1959)

We are changing, our societies are changing, everything is accelerating, and the place for beauty — and by extension the place for truth, reason and wisdom — is shrinking a little more every day. Words do not mean the same things anymore; they’re mutating — like the word “music” doesn’t really mean what it used to mean. Fewer people seem to understand its link to silence.  

Politics and social neuroses are heavily interfering as well. In light of these trends, performing and listening to good music is in some sense an act of rebellion as much as an act of faith.  

As for myself, I cannot relate to someone who would consider a Bruckner symphony too long, a Prokofiev work too brainy, or a piece by Debussy too meditative. On the contrary, these are different forms of wisdom coming from different cultures built upon centuries of maturation.  They are all pieces in the grand puzzle — and they might help people understand more than they ever sought to know.

____________________

We are indebted to David Grandis for championing the music of Max d’Ollone — one of numerous composers from France’s “Golden Age” whose catalogue of works is in need of resurrection. Music-lovers located near to Richmond and Tidewater Virginia should make every effort to attend the 2020 concerts.  No doubt they will be in for some very fine music-making.

Florent Schmitt, photographed a few years before he composed the Quartet for Trombones and Tuba in 1946 at the age of 76.

It’s quite likely that many music-lovers who know of French composer Florent Schmitt are most familiar with his “big” pieces scored for large orchestral forces, overlaid with sparkling orchestration in the grandest post-Rimsky tradition.  And it’s true that many of Schmitt’s best-known works are just those kinds of compositions — pieces like La Tragédie de Salomé, Antoine et Cléopâtre, Salammbó, and Dionysiaques (the latter one scored for wind ensemble).

But throughout his 70+ years of composing, Schmitt also created many works for smaller forces, including vast amounts of piano music and, beginning in the early 1940s, a string of noteworthy chamber music pieces. In addition to composing a string trio (1944) and a string quartet (1948), Schmitt didn’t neglect wind instruments, writing a quartet for saxophones (1943), a quartet for flutes (1949) and a sextet for clarinets (1953).

And there is one additional chamber music offering which is probably the least-known among them: the Quartet for Trombones and Tuba, Op. 109.

This work, which was composed in 1946 and premiered by the Tulout Quartet at the Concerts Oubradous in Paris in March 1949, is particularly interesting in that it’s one of few quartets in the repertoire that is scored for this combination of instruments; certainly there isn’t anything comparable from a composer of the acknowledged artistic stature of Florent Schmitt.

Considering the relative paucity of repertoire for these instruments created within “classic” forms, it’s unfortunate that the music isn’t better-known. One likely reason is that the Quartet is one of just a handful of opus-numbered works by Schmitt that wasn’t published during his lifetime.

Instead, the music would not be brought out by a publisher (Billaudot) until 1982.

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

Sometimes musicians and audiences become aware of pieces through recordings, but the Quartet hasn’t been very fortunate in this respect, either.  To my knowledge, there has been just one commercial recording made of this music, waxed in 2000 and released on the Hungaroton label.

That recording, part of a collection of music for tuba by eight French composers (joined by trombones in some instances), is a release that has never been particularly easy to obtain. I searched online for years before finally being able to find a copy of the CD available at a reasonable price (under $US30) from an Australian source in 2014.

Fortunately, the Hungaroton recording of Schmitt’s Quartet is a fine one, featuring trombonists Ferenc Kóczías, Peter Bálint and Sándor Balogh joined by József Bazsinka on the tuba. The piece is in four movements, as follows:

I.  Frondeur, empressé et pésant — Starting out with a menacing unison statement from all four instruments, the movement soon segues into a stately processional of sorts. But to my ears, it sounds like a religious procession of clerics that’s just a little “off” — as if they too know that they’re being just a little overly pompous to be convincing to the congregation …

II.  Vif — Characteristic of Schmitt’s skittering, scampering second movements in the Saxophone Quartet and Flute Quartet, here we have playful banter between the four instruments, replete with near-constant changes of rhythm and meter. It’s hard to keep up with the musical gymnastics — and it’s a pretty thrilling ride all along the way.

III.  Lent — As in the first movement, this one seems to have religious overtones as well, but there’s no sense of mockery or sarcasm whatsoever.  Instead, this intensively chromatic music conjures up a reverential atmosphere that’s characteristic of the musical style of Gabriel Fauré, Schmitt’s teacher and mentor at the Paris Conservatoire nearly a half-century before.

IV.  Animé — In the final movement, Schmitt brings us back into the bright atmosphere of cheerful high spirits — along with lardings of humor thrown in for good measure. The chattering dialogue between the four instruments is ever-pithy — and at times a little cheeky and even razzy. The tessitura is high for the trombones, low for the tuba — and all over the map for the listener.  Every time I hear this movement, it puts a smile on my face.

Those are my personal observations about the movements of the Quartet. A more technical analysis is provided by the musicologist Éva Nagy in her notes for the Hungaroton recording:

“The Quartet is a genuine chamber piece in four movements. Its genesis is highly complex; Schmitt reworked all its parts, now transposing the four movements by a half- or full-note lower, then dividing the solo parts between the first two trombones and combining them again into a single part.”

Her analysis isn’t something I understand particularly well, but whatever …

There’s likely little disagreement over one other attribute of the Quartet that should be mentioned — and that is its virtuosity. More than one musician I know has told me how challenging the piece is to play well — not that this characteristic is anything particularly out of the ordinary for a Florent Schmitt score!

As alluded to above, for years the only commercial recording of this piece was elusive, but recently it has been uploaded to YouTube and can be heard here. I think you will find the music to be quite inventive. It’s also a score that holds up well under repeated listening.  I’ve known this piece for a number of years now, and each time I listen to it, I’m hearing new nuances that have gone unnoticed before.

Interestingly, one movement of the Quartet actually was published during Schmitt’s lifetime — and it’s two arrangements of the third movement that the composer made several years after he composed the original piece.  In 1950, Durand published Schmitt’s arrangement of the “Lent” movement for four cellos under the title Andante religioso.  The following year, the Andante religioso was brought out by Durand in a subsequent arrangement by Schmitt for string quartet (or string ensemble).

The first page of the score to Florent Schmitt’s 1951 arrangement of the third movement of his Quartet for Trombones and Tuba, scored for string quartet or string ensemble and published by Durand as Andante religioso.

Only commercial recording to date of the Andante religioso: James Lockhart conducting the Rhenish State Philharmonic.

This latter arrangement was commercially recorded back in the late 1980s by the strings of the Rhenish State Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of James Lockhart. Originally released on the Cybelia label and out of print for years, recently the rights to the recording were purchased by French actor and narrator Vincent Figuri, who has generously made the music available again for everyone to enjoy.

You can hear the RSPO recording of the Andante Religioso in this YouTube upload, which provides ample proof that this exceptional string ensemble miniature deserves much wider exposure.

One other personal note about this particular arrangement: I feel fortunate (and honored) to have been given my own opportunity to hear the Andante religioso live in 2014, played by the strings of the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra in a “private” performance at the conclusion of a musicians’ rehearsal during a summer workshop event.  My only regret is that the microphones didn’t capture that special moment for posterity …

Gabriel Astruc (1864-1938)

Not long ago, I compiled a listing of published biographies, other books and dissertations that cover music and arts in Paris during the time of Florent Schmitt’s career as a composer (roughly the 70-year period from 1890 to 1960).  Among the many documents I discovered, one of the most interesting was one that focused on Gabriel Astruc, the French impresario who was at the center of artistic life in Paris in the several decades before World War I.

A poster announcing the opening of the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris (1913).

It was Astruc who built the iconic Théâtre des Champs-Élysées which opened in 1913, and which is very much with us today.  It may be the accomplishment for which the impresario is best-known, but he was much more than that,

Indeed, there was scarcely any important artistic endeavor in Paris in those days that didn’t have Astruc’s imprimatur on it — or otherwise involved him in some significant way.

Gabriel Astruc was born in Bordeaux, France in 1864.  Moving to Paris as a young man, he began his career working for Paul Ollendorf, a small-time publisher and bookshop owner, and soon founded his own arts journal, L’Amateur.

He became acquainted with writers such as Guy de Maupassant, Octave Mirbeau and Marcel Proust, and served as a proofreader for some of Proust’s published books.  But his predilections were not confined to literary interests only.

A vintage poster announcing shows at Le Chat noir cabaret in Paris.

Being drawn to the modernist Le Chat noir cabaret in the Montmartre district (18th Arrondissement) of Paris, Astruc met Erik Satie, through which he became acquainted with other young composers of the time — up-and-comers like Paul Dukas, Gabriel Pierné, Gustave Charpentier and Florent Schmitt.

In 1897, Astruc began to diversify his involvement in arts activities.  He worked in music publishing and shortly thereafter, launched his own magazine Musica.

Italian operatic tenor superstar Enrico Caruso, photographed in 1908 about the time Gabriel Astruc brought him to Paris to perform.

By 1904, the intrepid entrepreneur had established himself as a concert promoter and would soon be bringing the latest talents to Paris — budding artists and established luminaries aliked.  They included personages such as Artur Rubinstein, Enrico Caruso, Dame Nellie Melba — and even the femme fatale actress, courtesan (and later German spy) Mata Hari.  In 1911, he brought New York’s Metropolitan Opera Company to Paris for a series of productions led by the conductor Arturo Toscanini.

Mata Hari (Margaretha Geertruida Zelle MacLeod), the Dutch-born exotic dancer, actress and courtesan. Convicted of being a German spy during World War I, she was executed by firing squad in 1917.

But perhaps Gabriel Astruc’s most noteworthy artistic coup was bringing Serge Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes to Paris in 1909, where the troupe would set up headquarters more or less permanently.  Astruc worked closely with Diaghilev and his dancers, choreographers, costume and set designers to mount a wide range of ballets featuring the music of contemporary composers such as Igor Stravinsky, Florent Schmitt, Maurice Ravel and Nikolai Tcherepnin, among others.

News of the riotous 1913 premiere of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps at Gabriel Astruc’s theatre made it all the way to America, where the New York Times reported accurately about the audience reaction — but was prematurely wrong about the ballet’s “failure.”

The most notorious of these productions was Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps, which caused a near-riot at the premiere in 1913 — as recounted by Florent Schmitt in a column he authored that appeared in the Paris papers the next day.

Riot at the Rite: Portions of the 2005 made-for-TV movie were filmed on location at Gabriel Astruc’s Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris.

[The controversial premiere of Le Sacre was the subject of a 2005 film titled Riot at the Rite, in which the character of Gabriel Astruc plays a prominent role; the film can be viewed in its entirety here, courtesy of YouTube.]

Astruc’s consequential activities and career are detailed in an extensive dissertation report titled Re-Thinking Paris at the fin-de-siècle: A New Vision of Parisian Musical Culture from the Perspective of Gabriel Astruc, which was researched and prepared by César Leal in 2014.

Dr. Leal is a musicologist as well as a performing musician (classical saxophonist and conductor).  A native of Colombia where he undertook his early musical studies at the Universidad Javeriana in Bogotá, Leal came to the United States in 2002 where he earned a degree in instrumental conducting from Florida International University and a PhD. in musicology from the University of Kentucky.

César Leal

His appointments have included positions at the University of the South near Chattanooga, Tennessee, including conductor of the Sewanee Symphony Orchestra plus faculty member and artistic advisor of the Sewanee Summer Music Festival.  He has also been active in several musicological groups at the regional, national and international level.  At present, he is the newly appointed musicologist and director of orchestral studies at the Sunderman Conservatory of Music of Gettysburg College in Pennsylvania.

I became aware of Dr. Leal’s activities through mutual colleagues and friends, and the two of us have maintained a correspondence for several years.  After reading his PhD dissertation on the topic of Gabriel Astruc, I felt that aspects of the life and work of the impresario were significant to developing a richer understanding of artistic life in Paris during the time of Florent Schmitt and his contemporaries, and thus worthy of attention.

Recently I had the opportunity to interview Dr. Leal about the salient findings from his research.  His comments are presented below:

PLN:  How did you discover Gabriel Astruc, and what inspired you to make him the topic of your doctoral dissertation?

CAL:  My professional activities as a musicologist and conductor often intersect.  From both a performance and scholarly standpoint, I have found that fin-de-siècle Paris is a very intriguing and stimulating field of study.  As I looked closely into the activities of conductors like Pierre Monteux and representative composers like Saint-Saëns, Stravinsky, Schmitt, Debussy and others, I felt that their stories tended to be presented somewhat in isolation from one another. 

Most of the available studies covering this period also seemed more focused on individual composers or pieces of music.  Perhaps due to the singularity of all these works and musical languages, I felt there weren’t enough all-encompassing historical narratives.

Authors like Jann Pasler, Diana Hallman, Steven Moore Whiting, Lynn Garafola, and Annegret Fauser had contributed fascinating viewpoints to enhance our understanding of the Parisian cultural landscape. As I got to meet or work with some of those wonderful scholars, they inspired me to pursue a wider understanding of all the cultural landscape in this very special time and place. 

Pierre Monteux, conductor of the 1913 premiere performances of Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps at Gabriel Astruc’s theatre. (1937 photograph)

While looking at archival materials related to Pierre Monteux at the New York Public Library, I came across a single contract for the 1909 season of the Ballets Russes in Paris, which contained the signatures of Maestro Monteux and Gabriel Astruc. That was a revealing moment to me.  I realized that learning about the production of these events, the commissioning of new works as well as fundraising, advertising, and engagements of artists might provide an interesting new perspective on the way the Parisian cultural landscape worked. 

Thanks to the support of the Musicology department at the University of Kentucky, and guided by Drs. Jonathan Glixon and Diana Hallman, I was able to spend one year in Paris researching the collection of Gabriel Astruc’s papers and other archives.  And there was certainly a great deal of material including contracts, programs, advertisements and personal correspondence. 

After building a database containing more than 16,000 different documents, I was able to ascertain the importance of Astruc’s role in the rich and complex cultural milieu of Paris.

PLN:  In considering Astruc’s career as an impresario, a booking agent and theatre manager, in what ways do feel that he changed the manner in which those types of activities were carried out?  Were there any particular path-finding innovations that he employed?

​CAL:  Those are interesting questions.  The fascinating thing about Gabriel Astruc is that through a study of his activities, we are able to understand what it meant to be an impresario in that era.  Additionally, we are able to observe how an impresario could actually influence the cultural landscape.  

Professionals like Astruc were also writers, journalists, music publishers, managers, and so on.  They knew every single thing there was to know about the artistic landscape in which they worked — and the mechanisms to navigate successfully in a busy cultural capital such as Paris. 

Wanda Landowska (1879-1959), photographed at the harpsichord in 1937. Like Artur Rubinstein, Landowska was another performing artist brought from Russian Poland to the French capital by Gabriel Astruc in the early 1900s.

​One of the most enlightening discoveries in my research was that, just as Astruc worked with artists like Enrico Caruso, Igor Stravinsky and Wanda Landowska during the Grand Saison de Paris (which he created and organized), he also collaborated with popular artists like Rodolphe Berger and Yvette Guilbert in circus revues and cafe-concerts.  

Indeed, Astruc’s activities bridged the so-called “classical” and “popular” traditions.  The same impresario who commissioned works such as Debussy’s Martyrdom of St. Sebastian and organized the Parisian premiere performances of Richard Strauss’ opera Salome (conducted by the composer), also produced spectacles such as A Fond de Train, Paris au Galope, and A la Cravache.

Gabriel Astruc in his office/study. (Pavillon de Hanovre, 1914)

A vintage poster promoting Nouveau-Cirque, the establishment owned by Joseph Oller (co-founder of the famed Moulin Rouge). Unlike common perceptions of circuses and their spectators, this one was an upscale establishment where patrons were required to wear formal attire.

It’s hard to imagine that the same impresario who conceived, built, and directed the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, a place that catered to the Parisian elite, also produced the Nouveau-Cirque (New Circus), which entertained a generation of spectators before closing in 1926.  Astruc, as the man behind the world premiere of works such as Stravinsky’s L’Oiseau de feu, Pétouchka and Le Sacre du printemps — not to mention other ballet spectactulars like  Schmitt’s La Tragédie de Salomé — was also instrumental, for instance, in introducing and popularizing African-American music genres like the cakewalk.

A letter written and signed by Gabriel Astruc concerning Serge Diaghilev, founder and director of the Ballets Russes.

PLN:  Over his lengthy career, Astruc promoted the careers of numerous well-known artists — among them Mata Hari, Artur Rubinstein, Wanda Landowska and Feodor Chaliapin.  Which artistic careers do you think Astruc did the most to burnish — in other words, where his support was the most consequential to the artists’ success?

A 1908 photo of the young Polish-Russian pianist Artur Rubinstein, who was brought to Paris by Gabriel Astruc that same year.

CAL:  The list is quite long!  Among the many artists he worked with, one that stands out is Artur Rubinstein. Astruc played a key role in bringing Rubinstein to Paris in 1904 (Rubinstein had auditioned for Astruc when he was only 16 years old).  It was in Paris where, thanks to Astruc, Rubinstein connected with musicians like Ravel, Dukas, Saint-Saëns and Jacques Thibaud. 

Then in 1906, Astruc sent the young pianist to New York City, where his career really took off; it is likely that Rubinstein would not have had the storied career enjoyed were it not for Astruc and this American booking, because it was in America where Rubinstein’s success would be greater than anywhere else. 

Gabriel Astruc (l.), photographed in the Pavillon de Hanovre in Paris (1910).

However, If I had to choose the one area of most consequence, I’d say that Gabriel Astruc’s impact on opera was extremely significant.  Not only did Astruc facilitate transatlantic connections — he brought New York’s Metropolitan Opera to Paris for the Italian season of 1910 — he also became the representative in Paris for opera houses like the Met and Buenos Aires’ Teatro Colon.

PLN:  Which Parisian composers did Astruc interface with most regularly during his career?  Are there particular premiere performances or other musical events that he produced which are of particular historical or artistic significance?

CAL:  Astruc was at the epicenter of Parisian music.  He knew and worked with nearly all of the composers we know today (and some we are rediscovering) who were of historical significance. One of his most remarkable achievements was to build a ballet audience out of those opera lovers. As most operas that Astruc produced featured ballet sequences, such scenes became increasingly independent from the operatic works.  

German composer Richard Strauss, photographed a few years before the premiere of his scandalous opera Salome, featuring a libretto by Oscar Wilde. Gabriel Astruc brought the opera to Parisian audiences in 1906.

Eventually, entire nights of ballet would consist of choreographies from the major operas.  This was the case with the “Dance of the Seven Veils” from Richard Strauss’ opera Salome — one of the works which tempted Parisians into the concert hall. A genre called “Concerts de danse” became widely popular during this time, and it stems directly from Gabriel Astruc’s endeavors.

PLN:  In your research, did you come across instances where Gabriel Astruc would have interfaced with Florent Schmitt?  More generally, where do you suspect their paths would have crossed in Paris?

A very dapper Florent Schmitt, photographed at the turn of the last century. Hard on the heels of Richard Strauss’ opera, Schmitt would pen another “Salome” for Parisian audiences — the ballet La Tragédie de Salomé — which was first mounted in 1907 but later presented by the Ballets Russes at Gabriel Astruc’s theatre (1913).

I have not come across any direct correspondence between Astruc and Schmitt.  However, it’s clear that such a connection would have existed.  Schmitt often collaborated with other significant composers of the time such as d’Indy, Dukas, Ravel and Roussel. The fact that Astruc programmed Schmitt’s La Tragédie de Salomé for the inaugural season of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in 1913 suggests not only that there was an implicit sense of personal trust, but also that Astruc knew and had great respect for Schmitt’s abilities as a composer.  

PLN:  One of Astruc’s lasting achievements was the building of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, which was completed in 1913.  What was notable about the design and construction of that building, and what kind of role has it played in the Parisian artistic world since opening a century ago?

CAL:  The Théâtre des Champs-Élysées was a “first” in Paris in many ways.  Its Art Deco style, which did not become popular until a decade later, reflected the ahead-of-the-curve thinking of its designers.  Also, it was a space that facilitated dialogue between genres. 

It’s something that was on his mind for quite a long time; correspondence between Astruc and musical artists such as Debussy reveal that he was discussing this idea as early as 1903. 

The Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris, site of the premiere performances of Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps in 1913. The Grande Salle of the theatre was also where Florent Schmitt conducted the Straram Concerts Orchestra in the second commercial recording of La Tragédie de Salomé (1930).

The story of the theatre and its design is fascinating; in fact, it drove a significant portion of my dissertation. 

Although some people may not realize it, the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées is not located on the avenue from which its name derives.  The change in location from the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to the Avenue Montagne, where the theatre was ultimately built, was caused by an unfortunate anti-Semitic scheme plotted by members of the local government (Astruc was from a Sephardic Jewish family). 

In the event, Astruc was forced to modify his original plan to achieve his goal.  Even the design of the theatre had to change to adjust to the conditions and limitations of the new location.

A contemporary photo of the main stage of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées (Grande Salle). (Photo: Pierre Lannes)

The original distribution of the interior spaces at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées offers evidence as to how audiences and different artistic disciplines interacted within the same building. The Grande Salle, mainly devoted to orchestral music, opera and ballet, had the capacity to host an audience of 2,500 people.

The Salle Moyenne, devoted to virtuoso soloists, instrumentalists and chamber music (accommodating up to 50 musicians on the stage), could seat up to 1,200 people. Lastly, the Petite Salle, devoted to small recitals and diverse artistic expositions, could host up to 800 people.

Set décor by Leon Bakst for the Ballets Russes production of Florent Schmitt’s La Tragédie de Salomé, presented at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées (1913).

In the original proposal to obtain the lot on the Avenue of Champs-Élysées for the construction of the theater that was submitted to the Chamber of Deputies, Astruc compared each one of these halls with other Parisian venues with similar characteristics. In the totality of its conception, the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées facilitated the integration of the various spaces through common areas intended for social interaction. In addition, it enabled a “dialogue” among different works and disciplines as well as among audiences with different artistic interests.

I’m sorry to report that sadly, after multiple renovations, the all-encompassing artistic experience that the construction of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées initially offered does not exist today. The three different performing spaces have been separated and are no longer accessible through the same common areas. The Grand, Moyenne, and Petite Salles are currently independent one from another and they are also operated by different administrations.

An aerial view of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées today.

In addition, the room initially conceived as an art gallery is currently utilized mainly for auctions. In short, the artistic “dialogue” that these spaces had once facilitated — and which reflected Gabriel Astruc’s aesthetic ideals — is no longer facilitated by the building.

PLN:  Can you tell us a bit about Astruc’s later career — the years following the opening of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées? Were there particular milestones from the 1920s or 1930s? At the time of his death in 1938, was he still a force on the Parisian arts scene, or had he faded from the limelight?

Gabriel Astruc in later life.

CAL:  Astruc’s role as impresario faded during and after the Great War. The collapse of his business during the early years of the war including the premature closing of the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées soon after its opening seemed to have left Astruc with a different perspective on the business — and, likely, on life itself.

Although there is little historical record to document in detail his postwar activities, we do know that Astruc maintained connections with different artists through the L’Agence Radio, a press agency for which he worked during this time. 

I have also found new evidence on the life of Astruc’s daughter, who maintained a discreet love affair with the granddaughter of the famous French writer Victor Hugo — and about which we do not know much yet.

PLN:  As one of the few people to have studied Gabriel Astruc’s life in great detail, what are the one or two “takeaway” points that people should remember about Astruc and his contribution to the arts?

CAL:  I’d say the biggest point is that sometimes, in order to understand the “big picture” of something, we need to look into unlikely places. The whole process of research and discovery has been very illuminating.  It’s like playing a detective role — finding clues everywhere and connecting as many dots as possible to build meaning!

PLN:  Since completing your doctoral degree, you have been involved in a variety of artistic initiatives and pursuits.  Please tell us a bit about your current activities.  Are there any new special projects on the horizon?

César Leal conducts …

CAL:  I consider myself fortunate to be able to maintain an active agenda as a conductor and as a musicologist. It’s true that splitting my time between two very demanding disciplines might affect the amount of scholarly output or artistic projects I am able to lead; there is only so much time in a day.  However, I have found an artistic home in the field of liberal arts education where I can combine both passions in interesting and diverse ways.

Currently, I work as a director of orchestral activities at the Sunderman Conservatory of Music at Gettysburg College, where I also teach musicology coursework.  I am also very grateful to be able to maintain an international profile as a performing artist and music scholar.

Diana Hallman

As for other projects, I am currently working on a book co-edited with Dr. Diana Hallman of the University of Kentucky, which explores the arrival of the “cakewalk craze” to Paris and its wide-ranging implications on the culture of the times.

____________________

We’re grateful to César Leal for his scholarly research into the life and times of Gabriel Astruc.  It has revealed interesting new insights into the artistic milieu of Paris at a consequential time — indeed, as fellow musicologist Dr. Jerry Rife has characterized, France’s undisputed “Golden Age” of classical music.

Of Florent Schmitt’s major compositions, undoubtedly the one that has achieved the greatest fame over the decades is the ballet La Tragédie de Salomé, which Schmitt created for the dancer Loïe Fuller who presented the hour-long “mimed drama” at the Théâtre des Arts (now the Théâtre Hébertot) in Paris in 1907.

That original version of La Tragédie de Salomé was scored for a small ensemble of some 20 musicians, necessitated by the small size of the theatre’s stage and orchestra pit. The success of the premiere led Schmitt to prepare a new version of the ballet in 1910, rewriting and paring the score by about half while substantially augmenting the musical forces to encompass an entire symphony orchestra.

Igor Stravinsky and Florent Schmitt, photographed in about 1910.

This new version of La Tragédie de Salomé, which was dedicated by Schmitt to Igor Stravinsky, received its premiere performance as a symphonic suite in 1911 by the Concerts Colonne conducted by the composer-conductor Gabriel Pierné. The premiere was soon followed by ballet stagings in 1912 (with Nathalie Trouhanova), by the Ballets-Russes (Tamara Karsavina) in 1913, and in 1919 (Ida Rubinstein).

Over the ensuing decades, the ballet was revived in Paris and premiered in other European cities up to the mid-1950s. But since the 1970s, to the best of my knowledge it has been presented on the stage in only four countries: Italy in 1973; Germany in 1994-95; and Russia and Italy in 2013 (the latter two by the Mariinsky Ballet).

As for the concert suite, its success has been much greater. The music took hold in the concert hall — and not merely in France. It was first presented outside the country in 1913 (at the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam). And today, more than a century after its initial appearance, it’s safe to contend that the music has never been so recognized or oft-performed as it is now.

The 1913 Concertgebouw Orchestra program.

If you ask most any musician who has performed Schmitt’s Salomé, likely you’ll get an earful of complaints that the music is very challenging to master. As the French conductor Fabien Gabel has noted:

Fabien Gabel

“Always when I program Florent Schmitt, the musicians are freaking out.  Their first reaction is to say, ‘It’s so complicated!  We don’t know where it goes!’  I think success with Schmitt is a matter of preparation, and the musicians are extremely well-prepared because they know the music is challenging to play.”

So, it is not so surprising to discover that La Tragédie de Salomé has tended to be a “major orchestra” repertoire piece fairly exclusively. But that’s changing; today one finds that the score is being performed not only by the majors, but also by regional orchestras and student ensembles.

You can view a listing of post-World War II presentations of Salomé here, and from that listing we can see the piece’s track record in North America since 2015, where it has been performed by the following “major” symphony orchestras:

• Toronto Symphony Orchestra (Stéphane Denève, 2011)
• Chicago Symphony Orchestra (Alain Alginoglu, 2012)
• The Cleveland Orchestra (Lionel Bringuier, 2015)
• Philadelphia Orchestra (Yannick Nézet-Seguin, 2017)
• Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra (JoAnn Falletta, 2019)

But something else is happening — not just in North America but all over the world. Going beyond the so-called “major” orchestras, we are now seeing Salomé being taken up by regional ensembles and student groups. Among them are:

• National Youth Orchestra of Wales / Paul Daniel (2015)
• Moldova Philharmonic Orchestra of Iasi / Gottfried Rabl (2016)
• Paris Conservatoire Student/Graduate Orchestra / Alain Altinoglu (2016)
• Asheville Symphony Orchestra / Daniel Meyer (2016)
• Fresno State University Symphony Orchestra / Thomas Loewenheim (2016)
• Spokane Symphony Orchestra / Eckart Preu (2017)
• Guanajuato Symphony Orchestra / Daniel Myssyk (2017)
• Transylvanian State Philharmonic Orchestra of Cluj / Gottfried Rabl (2018)
• Orquesta Filarmonica de Mexico (UNAM) / Ronald Zollman (2018)
• Augusta Symphony / Dirk Meyer (2019)

It is highly likely that practically none of the musicians who play in these various groups had performed this music prior to their orchestras taking it up. Despite this — and despite the intensive preparation and practice time that the score demands — it is interesting to note that in more than a few cases, similarly challenging pieces of music were also programmed for the same concerts.

Paul Daniel

For example, the 2015 performance by the National Youth Orchestra of Wales was part of a concert that included three “big ballets”; in addition to Salomé, the NYOW orchestra tackled Paul Dukas’ La Péri and Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps. Conductor Paul Daniel remarked that “they played the concert program wonderfully well,” while music critic Roger Jones wrote the following about the Schmitt and Stravinsky performances in his review of the NYOW concert:

“The ever-youthful Paul Daniel guided the young Welsh musicians through the scores with clarity, zest and enthusiasm …

 A good deal of solid preparation had evidently gone into these performances, which demonstrated a standard of playing  I’m sure many a professional orchestra would be glad to attain. Precision, commitment and passion seem to be the hallmarks of this wonderful orchestra, and if anyone wonders where the classical musicians of tomorrow will come from, having heard the NYOW in action I can report that the Principality is teeming with burgeoning musical talent.”

The 2016 Filarmonica Moldova Iasi concert poster (Gottfried Rabl conducting).

Other regional and student orchestras have performed Salomé alongside similarly challenging concert program fare — such as Alphons Diepenbrock’s Marysas Suite and Manuel de Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain being presented by Gottfried Rabl and the Moldova Philharmonic Orchestra in 2017 … Richard Dubugnon’s Arcanes symphoniques sharing the program with Eckart Preu leading the Spokane Symphony in 2017 … and Gustav Holst’s The Planets being presented by Dirk Meyer and the Augusta Symphony in 2019.

Daniel Myssyk

When the Guanajuato Symphony Orchestra programmed La Tragédie de Salomé under the direction of Daniel Myssyk in 2017, it may well have been the premiere performance of this piece in Mexico (since then, Salomé has been presented by the UNAM Orchestra in Mexico City). Maestro Myssyk recalls how the piece was received at his concert:

“The audience’s reception was excellent. People in Guanajuato have a very open mind when it comes to discovering new repertoire. In many ways reminiscent of Le Sacre, the orchestra musicians thought the piece was challenging — yet very palatable. It’s always interesting to note that La Tragédie de Salomé was one of Stravinsky’s main sources of inspiration for Le Sacre.”

As for the most recent presentation of Salomé in concert — earlier this month by the Augusta Symphony under its German-American music director, Dirk Meyer — the conductor commented:

Dirk Meyer

“It was a truly wonderful experience to conduct La Tragédie de Salomé and I was thrilled with how many audience members, as well as musicians, approached me afterwards, thanking me for programming it. Even though very few in attendance knew of this piece, it left a profound impression and was one of the highlights of the evening’s performance. I am looking forward to introducing more audiences and musicians to this great work.”

Recent news about upcoming concerts reveals the the Orchestre Français des Jeunes will be including Salomé in its upcoming Summer 2020 European tour.  It will be an opportunity for top young musical talent to perform one of the shining examples of France’s “Golden Age” of classical music. Fabien Gabel, who directs the OFJ, says this about the upcoming tour:

“I am looking forward to presenting La Tragédie de Salomé by Florent Schmitt to the musicians of the Orchestre Français des Jeunes. Most of these young artists will be discovering a new, lush world of sound. The work makes great virtuosic demands on everyone, and it will require a lot of work on the part of all sections of the orchestra.”

In a similar vein, the efforts that the French conductor Alain Altinoglu has made to popularize Salomé to the youngest generation of conductors is laudable. Maestro Altinoglu has presented the piece with numerous orchestras (including ones in Chicago, Montpellier, Paris and Toulouse), but his advocacy for the work while serving as a conducting instructor at the Paris Conservatoire is arguably even more consequential.

In 2016, Maestro Altinoglu chose La Tragédie de Salomé as the piece for the students in his classes to study. Moreover, each of the students conducted portions of the ballet on a March 7, 2016 program that was open to the public.

Alain Altinoglu

Thanks to Maestros Daniel and Gabel, younger musicians are being exposed to Florent Schmitt’s music. And special thanks as well to Maestro Altinoglu, through whom more of today’s “rising stars” in the conducting world are gaining exposure to La Tragédie de Salomé, much as they have done with the symphonies of Bruckner, Brahms and Mahler.

Plus, considering how infectious the music is to anyone who encounters it, this early acquaintance and exploration can’t help but result in better knowledge and respect for this incredible piece of music — and with it, more chances for audiences to experience it live in the concert hall.

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

Throughout his lengthy creative career which spanned more than seven decades from the 1890s to the 1950s, the French composer Florent Schmitt would create vast swaths of piano music.

For a composer who possessed considerable pianistic talents of his own, it seems completely fitting that he would do so — and predictably, many of the pieces are quite challenging technically.

Indeed, the noted French pianist Alfred Cortot characterized Florent Schmitt’s piano music as “fistfuls of notes.” But what is also abundantly clear — and what Cortot explains in his chapter on Schmitt in his multi-volume books about French piano music — is that any such complexity in Schmitt’s output exists in service to the music, not as mere padding.

With few exceptions, I find Schmitt’s piano compositions to be endlessly fascinating. Even the “salon”-like examples of his piano creations are so much more than that.  There is beauty — but also real depth — in each of them.

During the early part of his career, it’s little surprise that Schmitt’s piano scores would fit pretty snugly within the late Romantic idiom — after all it was the time in which the young composer was living. Thus, in early piano sets like Soirs (1890-96), the stylistic influence of Schumann is unmistakable — as is the influence Schmitt’s own teacher and mentor, Gabriel Fauré.

But even in those early years — and roughly corresponding to Schmitt’s stay at the Villa Medici in Rome (the result of winning the Prix de Rome first prize for composition in 1900), we begin to discern Schmitt’s unique voice — and the forward-looking nature of his musicality — coming into focus.

In this regard, it’s useful to consider an episode involving Florent Schmitt’s interaction with his close friend Maurice Ravel, as both men explored ways of expressing themselves through their piano scores. As recounted by the Australian pianist Kenan Henderson:

“I’ve read about a story where one day [in 1901], Ravel announced to his circle of friends that it was impossible to write effectively for piano anymore.  Florent Schmitt then proceeded to write his remarkable Les Lucioles [“Fireflies,” the second of the two pieces that make up Nuit romaines, Op. 23] in reaction to Ravel’s contention. This subsequently provoked Ravel into writing his innovative and famous Jeux d‘eau.  It shows just how closely linked these two figures were in day-to-day life.”

It was about this same time that Florent Schmitt began composing a new set of six piano pieces which would ultimately be published in 1912 under the omnibus title Pièces romantiques, Op. 42.

Judging from the title, one might assume that this is yet another of the ubiquitous sets of salon-like pieces being produced in those times — works that cast glances back to the 1800s rather than looking forward to the new century. But Schmitt’s title is deceptive.  His work could easily be dubbed “Pièces modernes” and it would be just as legitimate a name because this is music that, while it certainly exudes romantic character, is also breaking free from those musical traditions.

Indeed, in this 20+ minute suite, Schmitt takes 19th century subject matter and casts it in a fresh new light. The composer goes several steps beyond his earlier piano suite Crépuscules (begun in 1898) as he takes the listener on a special aural adventure. At times, Pièces romantiques foreshadows Schmitt’s startlingly original piano suite Ombres which he would begin to compose only a few short years after completing the Pièces romantiques.

The titles of the six selections that make up Pièces romantiques certainly sound conventional enough:

I.  Lied tendre

II.  Barcarolle

III. Valse nostalgique

IV.  Improvisation

V.  Nocturne

VI.  Souvenir

But names can be deceiving; just listen to the beginning of “Lied tendre” which actually starts out Agitato — hardly the manifestation of any sort of “tender air.” And while things seem to settle down following the initial explosive agitation, the atmospherics are anything but “settled.” Instead, Schmitt takes us through meandering pathways that stretch tonality and give us the sense that the music is always just a little “off.”

That sensation is carried through to many of the other numbers in the set as well. The “Barcarolle” possesses a certain poignancy, but the music continually weaves in and out of its “expected” tonality. Those atmospherics are explored further in the “Valse nostalgique” with its halting theme and exaggerated Viennese lilt — even as the musical material morphs from one key to another (and one meter to another).

The “Improvisation” movement fairly flits from each musical idea to the next.  Schmitt’s improvisatory impulses are manifested in the “Nocturne” that follows, too. Suffice it to say that Schmitt’s isn’t really a nocturne in the spirit of Chopin, although the ending is as magical as any that Chopin created.

The final piece in the set — “Souvenir” — might suggest a quintessential salon setting for such music in the spirit of Frantisek Drdla’s contemporaneous work of the same name (1906). But here again, Schmitt has musical surprises in store: The piece has a robust theme which the composer takes through a range of permutations — highly rhapsodic in spirit.  Indeed, in this last number there are moments that sound as if they come straight out of Ombres. It is as if the composer is “closing the book” on his early pianistic style even as he introduces us to the complexity that his mature pianist style would take in subsequent years.

Dedicatee Victor Henri Staub, French pianist and composer (1872-1953).

As was customary with many of his piano works, Florent Schmitt dedicated each of the numbers that make up Pièces romantiques to important people in his life. Two of the dedicatees were noted pianists of the day in France — René Vanzande (1873-1933) to whom the “Barcarolle” movement was dedicated, and Victor Henri Staub, who was both a pianist and a composer and to whom the “Improvisation” was dedicated.

A shared interest in “orientalism”: The first-edition printing of Barefoot Through Mauritanie by Odette du Puigaudeau (1937).

One additional dedicatee is worth noting: Florent Schmitt dedicated the first piece in the set — “Lied tendre” — to Odette du Puigaudeau. She was a noted ethnologist and author who spent many years in North Africa (her most important book, Barefoot Through Mauritanie, was written there and was published in 1937).

Dedicatee Odette du Puigaudeau, French author and ethnologist (1894-1991).

A non-conformist in many ways, Mlle. du Puigaudeau was also the longtime lesbian partner of the painter Marion Sénones. Hers was the type of feminine character — dramatic and often scandalous — to whom Schmitt was so often drawn, not just as muses for his creativity but also in his real-life relationships and associations.

Composed over an eight-year period between 1900 and 1908, the score to Pièces romantiques was published in 1912; various sources indicate that the original publisher was S. Chapelier … then Philippo later on. It isn’t a well-known score, and to my knowledge the music has been recorded commercially just three times.

The Pascal le Corre recording on Cybelia (1986).

The first two recordings appeared nearly contemporaneously in the mid-1980s. The one featuring the pianist Pascal Le Corre was released on the relatively short-lived Cybelia label. It is a highly effective interpretation that captures neatly the “unsettled” undercurrents in the individual pieces in the set.

Le Corre was a student of the famed Italian-French pianist Aldo Ciccolini, and that special teacher-student connection may explain how the pianist was able to achieve just the right interpretive balance between the romantic and modernist impulses of this music.

Unfortunately, the Le Corre recording never had extensive availability and has been out of print for decades. Nevertheless, it is well-worth seeking out due to the pianist’s superb interpretation.

The first recording of Florent Schmitt’s Pièces romantiques, beating Pascal Le Corre by about a year: Alain Raës (1985).

An equally winsome recording comes from the pianist Alain Raës, whose early-career rendition of Pièces romantiques was released in 1985 on the FY label. Here again, it’s unfortunate that such a fine recording is no longer readily available (at present, second-hand copies are commanding outsized prices on the Internet for those who seek to purchase a copy of the CD).

The 2006 recording of Florent Schmitt’s Pièces romantiques, made by pianist Angéline Pondepeyre.

Approximately 20 years would elapse between the first two commercial recordings and the release of the third and most recent one of this music. It features the artistry of Angéline Pondepeyre and was released in 2006 on the Talent label as part of an all-Schmitt recording featuring Pièces romantiques and three additional sets (the two books of Musiques intimes as well as the Trois valses-nocturnes).

Angéline Pondepeyre

Pondepeyre’s approach to the Pièces romantiques is a more “relaxed” take on the score, with tempos generally slower, melodic lines more lovingly presented, and the “rough edges” of the music smoothed out. While it isn’t my preferred interpretation, it is an equally valid approach and may well be to the liking of other music-lovers.

Going beyond the three commercial recordings of Pièces romantiques, there is another way you can become acquainted with the music — and follow along with the score as well. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, an “ersatz performance” of this music along with its score has been uploaded to YouTube.

The upload utilizes MIDI — a technical standard that connects musical instruments, computers and related audio devices for playing, editing and recording music — along with a Steinway Grand patch to create a “virtual performance.”  It is a note-perfect rendition of the challenging score, but the performance fails pretty definitely on the interpretive front. Even so, it is a useful opportunity to “see and hear” the music together with the score.

Alain Raës

I think you’ll find that the creative genius of Schmitt’s Pièces romantiques shines through despite the lack of interpretive nuance in the YouTube upload. But it’s a stop-gap, and in order to experience the full effect of this endlessly fascinating score, seeking out the Le Corre or Raës interpretations in particular is recommended.  Their rich and vibrant interpretations will give you the full measure of the music.

Funding from Florent Schmitt aficionados around the world is being sought to help underwrite the project.

Florent Schmitt (1870-1958), photographed in about 1900. 2020 is the composer’s 150th birthday anniversary year.

As we embark on the 150th birthday anniversary year of Florent Schmitt, who was born in 1870, it is particularly gratifying to discover that this milestone is being recognized in increased programming of Schmitt’s music in Europe, North America, Asia and elsewhere.  Equally gratifying are the recording projects that are happening; I am aware of at least three such projects that are being planned for the year 2020.

One of them is a recording focusing on Schmitt’s vocal music that is being spearheaded by the pianist Edward Rushton.

Edward Rushton

A native of the United Kingdom who has been based in Switzerland for the past decade, Rushton has harbored a love for Schmitt’s music for decades, and in recent years has studied and performed the composer’s solo piano pieces as well as vocal scores.

Recently, the pianist shared details of this new recording project which I am pleased to share. As you’ll see below, Ruston’s project is particularly gratifying in that more than half of the music planned for the new release will be recording premieres.

At present, funding is being sought for the recording sessions that will be happening within the next 60 days as well as post-production work.  I have contributed to the project and hope that many other Schmitt aficionados around the world will be motivated to donate as well, as this recording will fill several important gaps in the recorded legacy of Florent Schmitt.

Edward Rushton’s letter and solicitation for project funding follows:

Dear friends and colleagues,

I am happy to announce a new recording project for 2020, which I am undertaking with five wonderful musicians: a CD of songs by the French composer Florent Schmitt. The CD will also be released in 2020, the composer’s 150th Birthday Anniversary year.

In order to make this project possible financially, we are depending on help from you: crowd-funding!

The Composer and the Project

Florent Schmitt’s orchestral music, his ballets and his chamber music are enjoying an ever-increasing presence in the concert hall and on disc. However, his songs have been almost completely neglected for well-more than a half-century. Many of the songs on our CD will be world premiere recordings.

You may be familiar with the music of Florent Schmitt already, or perhaps you’d like to get to know some of his more popular works, available on the Internet; search for La Tragédie de Salomé or Dionysiaques for example — two of his works which got me enthusiastic about Schmitt during my teen years.

A few adjectives spring to mind when trying to describe this music: sensual bordering on orgiastic, wild, uncompromising. His use of polyphony and harmony are extremely complex, in some cases anticipating Messiaen and the Spectralists. Schmitt’s affinity with the darker side of human existence is fascinating; there’s something diabolical about the best of his music. I personally find his music astonishing, and I am very excited to be involved in this project.

The Production

Recording engineer and producer Andreas Werner.

Recording sessions will take place from the 26th to the 28th January 2020 in the Radio Studio in Zurich. Swiss Radio (Schweizer Radio SRF) is acting as co-producer, in that it is providing the studio and one piano tuning free of charge. The CD will be released on the respected label Resonus Classics during the course of 2020. We are delighted that Andreas Werner will be the engineer and recording producer for the project.

The Programme

• 3 Mélodies, Op. 4 (1895)
• 2 Chansons, Op. 18 (1901)
• Chansons à quatre voix, Op. 39 (1905)
• 4 Lieds, Op. 45 (1912)
• Kérob-Shal, Op. 67 (1924)
• 3 Chants, Op. 98 (1943)
• 4 Poèmes de Ronsard, Op. 100 (1942)

The songs we are recording derive from different periods of Schmitt’s long composing career. The Op. 4 songs, for example, very much inhabit the voluptuous world of late-Romanticism, although one can already make out many of Schmitt’s personal and highly individual fingerprints.

The Chansons, Op. 39 for four voices and piano duet are full of joy, fire and sensuousness.

The score to Florent Schmitt’s Kerob-Shal, Op. 67, composed in 1920-24.

The many astounding songs of the 1910s and 20s are filled with darker, expressionistic harmonies which underscore the cryptic and fathomless poetry. This is a world of nightmares and fantastical visions that is typical of Florent Schmitt’s preference for weird and pitiless exoticism.

In his later songs, composed during the Second World War, you can recognize Florent Schmitt’s increasing preoccupation with neo-classicism and a more ancient French culture. This is manifested not jus in his choice of poetry but also in his musical language. His humour and daring remain 100% Schmitt, needless to say! There is a clear parallel to Debussy’s return to the values and sound-world of Old France during the First World War, as well as a rejection of Germanic culture (which until then Schmitt had felt very close to).

The Musicians

Duo-pianists Fabienne Romer and Edward Rushton in recital (Veivy, Switzerland, 2016).

This group of musicians has performed the Chansons à quatre voix, Op. 39 a number of times over the last few years. We have found a meaningful distribution of the rest of the songs according to voice-type, and so that both pianists have an equal share of the music. It is a real team-project.

• Sybille Diethelm, soprano
• Annina Haug, mezzo-soprano
• Nino Aurelio Gmünder, tenor
• René Perler, bass-baritone
• Fabienne Romer & Edward Rushton, piano

Financial Resource Requirements

I am completely convinced of the importance of getting this remarkable music — so much of it never recorded before — out into the world. It’s a unique opportunity to do this now, with such a quality group of musicians and in Florent Schmitt’s jubilee year.

In-kind contribution: Swiss Radio’s recording studio is being provided free of charge.

There are certain costs to cover, however, in producing such a project. We are depending on your generous financial support: no single person could ever finance such a venture on his or her own, and certainly not a freelance musician! Here is a resumé of the costs (in Swiss Francs):

• Studio: Swiss Radio is providing it free
• Piano tuning: 1x provided free, 2x ca. CHF 250
• Recording producer / engineer: CHF 7000 + CHF 539 VAT + Travelling expenses (ca. CHF 50)
• Fee for six musicians: 6x CHF 1000
• Minimum purchase of CDs from the label (this is a condition of the deal with Resonus): 500 CDs @ CHF 5 = CHF 2500
• French coaching: CHF 900
• SUISA-fee (Copyright fee for mechanical reproduction): CHF 500
• Contingency for unforeseen extras: CHF 500

It is our aim to raise — with your help — these 18,600 Francs (approximately £14,600 or $19,300).

Every donor of 100 Francs or more will be mentioned in the booklet (if desired) and rewarded with a free copy of the published CD signed by all the artists. We are grateful for donations of any size, of course; the more generous, the better for the project!

You can transfer your donation via bankwire — up until the beginning of February 2020 — to the bank account of the Association “Besuch der Lieder”, and please add the note “Florent Schmitt.”

• Account name: Besuch der Lieder
• The IBAN is CH66 0900 0000 6131 3983 8
• The BIC or SWIFT code is POFICHBEXXX.
• Please add your name and address so that we can thank you in writing.

Many thanks for your worthwhile and valued support! We are greatly looking forward to recording this amazing music in late January for release during 2020!

In the name of the artists, and wishing you a very Happy New Year,

~Edward Rushton

Sternenstrasse 1, 3360 Herzogenbuchsee, Switzerland

+41 76 450 1719

edwardrushton@gmx.co.uk

www.besuchderlieder.net

www.edwardrushton.net

“What I find most astonishing about this piece is the fact that such heightened intensity and élan is achieved in record time … Florent Schmitt packs in the musical imagery required to make us imagine in our minds — and feel in our bodies — the dancing rites and rituals of the Devadasis. He makes us travel to that place.” 

— Karina Gauvin, Canadian soprano

Danse des Devadasis (1908), a Florent Schmitt “orientalist” score that is still awaiting its first commercial recording.

When one looks at the body of work that comprises French composer Florent Schmitt’s 138 catalogued compositions, the period 1900 to 1935 is striking in the number of significant works that were inspired by Eastern/Oriental subjects and themes.

Among the most significant of these creations are nine that were scored for orchestral forces — five of them with voices as well:

• Psalm XLVII, Op. 38 (1904) for soprano, chorus, violin, organ and orchestra
• Danse des Devadasis, Op. 47 (1908) for soprano, chorus and orchestra
• Selamlik, Op. 48 (1906) for concert band
• La Tragédie de Salomé, Op. 50 (1907/10), ballet for soprano, women’s voices and orchestra
• Dionysiaques, Op. 62 (1913-14) for concert band
• Antoine et Cléopâtre, Op. 69 (1921), incidental music to André Gide’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s play
• Danse d’Abisag, Op. 75 (1925), ballet for orchestra
• Salammbô, Op. 76 (1925), film music after Gustave Flaubert’s novel, for chorus and orchestra
• Oriane et le Prince d’Amour, Op. 83 (1934), ballet for tenor, chorus and orchestra

Of these creations, the three most famous and oft-recorded are the ballet La Tragédie de Salomé, the massive fresco Psaume XLVII, and the pioneering wind ensemble composition Dionysiaques.

But nearly all of the others have achieved a certain degree of awareness and recognition — all except for Danse des Devadasis. Indeed, Devadasis is the only one of these nine compositions that has never been commercially recorded.

That’s a shame, because the piece is a real gem that deserves a rightful place within the “core” repertoire of French choral music.

Jean Lahor (Henri Cazalis), French physician and symbolist poet (1840-1909).

Completed in 1908, the inspiration for Danse de Devadasis was a poem by the French physician and symbolist writer Jean Lahor (the pen name of Henri Cazalis), whose literary creations were set to music by numerous French composers of the era including Ernest Chausson, Henri Duparc, Reynaldo Hahn, Paul Paray and — most famously — Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns (Danse macabre).

There’s no question that in his poetry, Jean Lahor brought his subjects to resplendent life in the most colorful terms.  But just who are these Devadasis?

In South India, a Devadasi was a young girl selected to dedicate her life to worship and serve a deity or a temple. The dedication would take place in a Pottukattu ceremony (which is similar in some ways to a marriage). In addition to taking care of the temple and performing rituals, Devadasis also learned and practiced classical Indian artistic traditions like Bharatanatyam and Odissi dances.

Devadasis had a high social status, since dance and music were essential parts of temple worship.  After becoming Devadasis, these young women would spend their time learning religious rites, rituals and dancing. They had children by high officials or priests who were also taught their skills of music or dance.

From our 21st century perspective, the heritage of the Devadasi tradition might conjure up distasteful implications of “human trafficking,” but it should be noted that eminent personalities have hailed from the Devadasi community, among them Bharat Ratna recipient M. S. Subbalakshmi, along with Padma Vibhushan recipient Balasaraswathi.

Still, the Devadasi tradition died out in the years following India’s independence, thanks to the passing of a series of increasingly strict laws that were aimed against the practice of recruiting young girls dedicated to Hindu temples.

In reveling in Jean Lahor’s multicolored poetry, we can immediately sense the exotic attraction of the subject matter — which must have fanned the flames of Florent Schmitt’s own imagination as well, considering the composer’s red-blooded attraction to women (the polar opposite of his fellow-Apache composer friends Maurice Ravel and Manuel de Falla).

Presented below is the English translation of Lahor’s poetry that is found in Durand’s piano/vocal score to Danse des Devadasis, as prepared from the original French by the English author, music critic and vocal instructor Herman Klein:

Herman Klein (1856-1934)

Nautch-girls are whirling, gliding and twirling

To the rhythmic beat of the drum.

See ‘mid their dances, amorous glances

Darting from their eyes, though lips be dumb.

‘Neath silk or gauze their limbs ne’er pause

But as they sway, freely disclose rare forms enchanting.

Dark and fair, haunting

like the early dawn of day.

‘Round ankles tiny, gold and shiny

See a neat coil of rings is bound.

Merry feet twinkling, set up a’tinkling

As they respond to the music’s sound.

What are they hearing? A bee, I’m fearing.

Now the music mimics the noise.

Dancing and strumming, buzzing and humming

Swiftly, it teases and pursues.

One maiden fearful, grown almost tearful

Declares the bee is hid, she knows not where.

Scarf quickly tearing, fair bosom baring

She searches long to find him there.

And then the dancer, with sudden laughter

Forgets her fears and joins the throng,

While pipe and drumming resume their strumming

In gentle phrases soft and long.

In Schmitt’s score, the last two stanzas of Lahor’s poem are sung by a soprano soloist. In this regard, Danse des Devadasis is similar to Psaume XLVII in that the composer assigns an important part of the “story” to the soprano. In both pieces it is a masterstroke.

As for the “flavor” of the music, I find this score to be one in which the composer may have come closest to the French operatic tradition of Bizet and Massenet — the latter of whom had been one of Schmitt’s composition instructors at the Paris Conservatoire.

But the influence of Emmanuel Chabrier may be even more discernible — in particular shades of that composer’s stunning 1885 work La Sulamite which is scored for soprano and female chorus. Although better-known than Schmitt’s composition, Chabrier’s masterpiece is also shamefully neglected in the concert hall and has had only a few commercial recordings.

The dedication page from Emmanuel Chabrier’s manuscript score to La Sulamite, composed in 1885.

Speaking about the effectiveness of Danse des Devadasis as music, the Canadian soprano Karina Gauvin, who performed Psaume XLVII with Fabien Gabel and the Quebec Symphony Orchestra and Chorus in May of 2019, has stated:

Karina Gauvin (Photo: Michael Slobodian)

“What I find most astonishing about this piece is the fact that such heightened intensity and élan is achieved in record time. Within less than a 7-minute timeframe, Florent Schmitt packs in the musical imagery required to make us imagine in our minds — and feel in our bodies — those dancing rites and rituals of the Devadasis. He makes us travel to that place.  

I’d also note that we can also clearly hear shades of Ravel’s Boléro in this music — twenty years before that piece was composed!“

Scott Tucker, music director of the Choral Arts Society of Washington, who also presented Schmitt’s Psalm 47 during 2019 (at the Kennedy Center), makes these observations about Devadasis:

Scott Tucker

“Schmitt has turned east for something exotic to express.  The harmonic minor scale he uses in the opening woodwind figures … [and] his use of the triangle and bells and tambourine also allude to an eastern sound-world. 

The first half has a kind of whirling rhythm … the second half, which features the solo soprano, is more atmospheric.  Schmitt writes so well for the solo soprano voice, and here I think the piece hits its stride with some lovely lyric writing for the soprano — beginning from a dreamier place with harp and strings, moving to a more frenzied pace … then ending with some very satisfying, dreamy scalar passages which drift off to conclude the piece with a sense of longing. 

The choral writing, while not simple, is certainly more accessible than some of Schmitt’s other works.”

And consider the personal reaction of American conductor and Schmitt champion JoAnn Falletta to this music:

JoAnn Falletta

“Florent Schmitt shines in many musical mediums, but my favorite is his astonishing gift for painting exotic — and often erotic — landscapes.

The composer captures the very fragrance of southern India in his scene of young maidens singing to their deities.  And with his French sensitivity to the female voice, he creates a world that shimmers with both innocence and intoxicating allure.”

Émile-Jean-Joseph Vuillermoz (1878-1960). (Sculpture by Carina Ari)

Schmitt dedicated Danse des Devadasis to the arts critic and sometime-composer Émile Vuillermoz. The first performance of the score was mounted in London in 1911 in Schmitt’s version for soprano, chorus and piano.  The composer himself played the piano part at the premiere.

In the decades since, the piece has never achieved any significant degree of renown. Indeed, I have been unable to trace any performances of this music anywhere in the world in the past half-century.

French soprano Françoise Ogéas: A favorite of conductor Désiré-Émile Inghelbrecht, Mlle. Ogéas was cast in a memorable 1955 broadcast performance of Debussy’s complete Pelléas et Mélisande. Likewise, she sang the solo soprano part in the 1956 ORTF broadcast performance of Florent Schmitt’s Danse des Devadasis — also conducted by Maestro Inghelbrecht.

As for commercial recordings of this music, as noted above there have been none to-date. However, music-lovers now have the opportunity to hear Danse des Devadasis, thanks to audio documentation of a live performance of the music that was broadcast on May 3, 1956 by the ORTF Orchestra and Chorus under the direction of Désiré-Émile Inghelbrecht, joined by soprano Françoise Ogéas as the featured soloist.

The Forgotten Records release of the 1956 ORTF broadcast performance of Florent Schmitt’s Danse des Devadasis.

That idiomatic performance, which was captured in decent sonics, has now been released by Forgotten Records as part of a CD featuring three ORTF broadcast performances of Schmitt’s music done in the 1950s. The disk is well-worth acquiring and can be purchased directly from the Forgotten Records website, with orders shipped worldwide.

As a little-known but highly attractive and engaging choral work, Danse des Devadasis is long overdue for a revival in the modern era. We can only hope that some of today’s more inquisitive conductors and choral directors will investigate this score and add the music to their repertoire for the benefit of audiences everywhere.

Heitor Villa-Lobos (age 37) and Florent Schmitt (age 54), photographed in Paris in the mid-1920s.

Throughout his lengthy career, the French composer Florent Schmitt maintained personal friendships with many of his counterparts.  He was at the center of musical life in Paris, having particularly close relationships with Maurice Ravel, Albert Roussel, Gabriel Pierné, Paul Dukas, Gabriel Fauré, and numerous other French composers, in addition to helping the careers of younger generation of creators such as Arthur Honegger, Claude Delvincourt and Pierre Ferroud, his most prized pupil.

Schmitt also sustained decades-long acquaintances with composers from other lands — Igor Stravinsky, Frederick Delius, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Alfredo Casella, Manuel De Falla and George Enescu, to name just some.

Among those relationships, the friendship Schmitt had with the Brazilian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos (1887-1959) was one of the most mutually fulfilling. The two composers knew each other from the early 1920s until the late 1950s, ending only when death claimed both men within the span of just 14 months.

Villa-Lobos, arguably Brazil’s greatest composer, began his musical career in his native Rio de Janeiro. His earliest works, composed in the early 1900s, were in the prevailing salon style of the day, but he would soon begin to incorporate more modernist touches into his music, reminiscent of Debussy, Ravel and Stravinsky in particular.

In 1917, the appearance of two orchestral works by Villa-Lobos signaled the full flowering of his musical genius: the tone poems Uirapurú and Amazonas. Both compositions employed Brazilian themes and used a wide range of native percussion instruments.

By the early 1920s, it was clear that Villa-Lobos was ripe for the international stage, but such recognition would be difficult to achieve so long as the composer remained in South America. In those days, the center of culture and music meant Paris as much as Berlin or Vienna. Between the three destinations, Villa-Lobos’ own artistic proclivities would draw him to Paris.

Coming to Europe in the 1923-24 season, Villa-Lobos presented music of Latin American composers in France, Portugal and Belgium. During this time he became acquainted with the major musical personages of the day in the Paris — and one of those luminaries was Florent Schmitt.

Heitor Villa-Lobos, photographed in the 1920s.

Upon his return to Brazil, Villa-Lobos would “return the favor” by presenting French music there, while celebrating his first contract with the Paris-based publisher Éditions Max Eschig, the firm which would also publish the works of other Latin composers including de Falla, Joaquín Nin, Joaquín Turina, Federico Mompou and Ernesto Halffter.

In 1926, thanks to the generous financial support of the brothers Arnaldo and Carlos Guinle, two Brazilian industrialists and philanthropists, Villa-Lobos and his wife again made their way to Paris — this time to spend a full three years. During this sojourn, he enjoyed particularly warm acquaintances with fellow-composers Arthur Honegger, Olivier Messiaen, Sergei Prokofiev, Albert Roussel, Erik Satie, Edgard Varèse … and Florent Schmitt.

It was quite the fraternity of like-minded artists, each of whom was sustained by the others. In his book Heitor Villa-Lobos: A Life, musicologist David Appleby has written:

“During their stay at Place St-Michel, Villa-Lobos and [his wife] Lucilla frequently prepared a Brazilian bean dish called feijoada, but because their budget was limited, guests were often asked to bring a dish for a potluck. Guests included Florent Schmitt, Leopold Stokowski, the painter Joaquín Roca who created a famous portrait of Villa-Lobos, Edgard Varèse, and various other friends and musicians.”

In Paris, Villa-Lobos also befriended other Latin musicians, including the guitarist Andres Segovia and the Mexican composer Manuel Ponce. This extract from a letter Ponce wrote to his wife Clema in 1928 illuminates the nexus of artistic personalities in Paris in those times:

Manuel Ponce (1882-1948)

“Yesterday I was working at the office and Edgard Varèse came looking for me … He invited me to his house; naturally, I accepted. [Albert] Roussel, Florent Schmitt, the pianist [Tomás] Terán, Heitor Villa-Lobos, [Acario] Cotapos the Chilean composer were there with writers, painters, sculptors, etc. Among the women there was … the Comtesse de Polignac … Villa-Lobos was very amiable towards me, and invited me to visit him.”

Among all of these musicians and artists, Florent Schmitt was one of the most respected and influential. From his perch as an esteemed Parisian music critic, Schmitt was in a position to weigh in on Villa-Lobos’ talents as a composer — and he came down hard on the side of advocating for it.

Schmitt was present at several concerts of Villa-Lobos’ music in 1927, and his writings in the Parisian press did much to burnish the younger composer’s international reputation.  Two concerts at the Salle Gaveau late that year inspired the critic to pen a nearly four-page review and analysis which was published in La Revue de France. In it, Schmitt described Villa-Lobos’ music in poetic terms:

“With teeth like a crocodile and eyes of fire … the art of Villa-Lobos is founded upon the simple native devices that his genius has assimilated marvelously.”

And this:

“The works of Villa-Lobos give birth to virgin roads and irresistible atmospheres …”

The following year Schmitt reviewed a performance of Villa-Lobos’ Symphony No. 1 equally favorably, and in 1930 the world premiere of the composer’s Momoprecoce for piano and orchestra (with the solo part performed by Magda Tagliaferro) also received a glowing review from Schmitt.

The music historian and writer Lisa Margaret Peppercorn has characterized the relationship between Villa-Lobos and Schmitt in this manner:

“[Villa-Lobos] was dependent on Florent Schmitt, who encouraged him and gave him moral support by his understanding and considerate reviews and his personal interest in his music. The warm friendship he offered his younger colleague presumably helped also to introduce him to other composers and artists — both French and foreign — who lived in Paris, the center of the cultural world of the 1920s. 

Villa-Lobos had found in Florent Schmitt, his elder by 17 years, an admirer of his music and a sincere friend. The esteem and high regard they held for each other and the genuine friendship that developed between them … endured the rest of their lives.”

Upon his return to Brazil in the early 1930s and stimulated by his experiences of Paris’ endlessly fascinating musical life, Villa-Lobos organized a series of concerts in Rio and São Paulo that were devoted to contemporary compositions. One of those concerts was comprised entire of music by Schmitt. Villa-Lobos would program more Schmitt in April 1933, with a presentation of La Tragédie de Salomé in a concert that also included Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, Richard Strauss’ Burleske, and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue(!).

As war threatened in Europe — and later came to the continent — Villa-Lobos stayed put in his native country, embarking on a series of fresh initiatives including devoting himself to the musical education of schoolchildren via a position created for him by the Rio de Janeiro municipal government. He also began creating his series of nine Bachianas Brasileiras, which famously melded Brazilian musical atmospherics with Bachian forms.

Equally important, in 1942 Villa-Lobos spearheaded the establishment of both the National Conservatory and the Brazilian Academy of Music.

Florent Schmitt was honored as the only Parisian guest at an otherwise all-Brazilian birthday luncheon given for Heitor Villa-Lobos at La Maison de l’Amérique Latine on March 5, 1948. Also present were singer Cristina Maristany, cellist Iberê Gomes Grosso, pianist Arnaldo Estrella, musicologist Luiz Heitor Corrêa de Azevedo, Luisa Bailley from the Brazilian Embassy in Paris, and Arminda Villa-Lobos, the composer’s second wife. In this photo taken at the occasion, Schmitt is pictured in the front row (second from left) and Villa Lobos is second from right.

Shortly after the end of World War II, Villa-Lobos would return to Paris, renewing his friendship with Florent Schmitt. It was likely at this time that Villa-Lobos invited Schmitt to come to Brazil and accordingly, in September 1949 Schmitt sailed for Brazil and was greeted in Rio’s port by Villa-Lobos with flowers and music.

On October 31st, Schmitt and Villa-Lobos teamed up conducted a concert of music at Rio’s Municipal Theatre devoted entirely to Schmitt’s compositions. Schmitt conducted La Tragédie de Salomé and Psaume XLVII while Villa-Lobos directed the musical forces in Six choeurs, In Memoriam and Ronde burlesque.

The all-Schmitt program featuring the composer conducting his Psaume XLVII and La Tragédie de Salomé, along with Villa-Lobos conducting Six choeurs, In Memoriam and Ronde burlesque (Theatro Municipal Rio de Janeiro, October 31, 1949).

The next day, Florent Schmitt was honored at a reception hosted by the Academia Brasileira de Musica, an organization founded by Villa-Lobos four years earlier. Held at the Brazilian Press Association Building, the reception was accompanied by a concert of Brazilian music as well as Schmitt’s Trois rapsodies for two pianos. Schmitt was the second internationally famous composer to be so feted by the Academia; the first had been the American composer Aaron Copland in 1947.

Florent Schmitt is flanked by members of the Academia Brasileira Musica in a reception given in his honor on November 1, 1949 in Rio de Janeiro. Schmitt is sitting between Arminda Neves D’Almeida and Cristina Maristany. Among the dignitaries in attendance included (back row, from left to right): José Vieira Brandão (1st), Alceo Bocchino (6th), Heitor Villa-Lobos (8th), Ary Ferreira (12th) and Iberê de Lemos (13th).

This event was followed several days later by a concert devoted to Schmitt’s chamber music, during which his Flute Quartet received its first public performance. Also programmed were the Quatre poèmes de Ronsard, Trois danses for piano solo, as well as the middle movement of the Piano Quintet (with Schmitt himself playing the piano part).

The November 4, 1949 chamber music program featuring Florent Schmitt’s compositions included the world premiere performance of his Quartet for Flutes, Op. 106.

In the final years of both composers’ lives, the two men would stay in touch via letters. Reading them, one can find hints of a second Brazilian trip that was in the planning stages, but considering Schmitt’s advanced age (then well over 80 years old), such a strenuous journey must have ultimately seemed to difficult to undertake.

As a measure of Villa-Lobos’ great esteem for the older master, he included a work by Schmitt on the program of an otherwise all-Villa-Lobos concert he conducted with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in 1957.

The 1957 New York Philharmonic concert program featuring the music of Heitor Villa-Lobos as conducted by the composer also paid tribute to Florent Schmitt by including his Salammbó Suite No. 2.

Heitor Villa-Lobos’ tribute to Florent Schmitt, written following the death of the older composer in 1958. Although he was 17 years younger, Villa-Lobos would outlive Schmitt by just 14 months.

At the time of Schmitt’s death in September 1958, Villa-Lobos penned a heartfelt tribute to his longtime friend and colleague. Just fourteen months later, he would also be dead.

Summarizing the significance of the relationship between these two composers, Lisa Peppercorn has written:

“It is difficult to say if Villa-Lobos would have ever gained as much success as he did in his early days in Paris without Schmitt’s analysis and reviews of the composer’s works in reputable publications, or without the attachment and affinity the artists felt and expressed for one another.”

One thing is certain: The relationship between Schmitt and Villa-Lobos is yet another example of Schmitt using his influence and advocacy to help advance the careers of the fellow composers he felt were worthy to promote.

Florent Schmitt (1870-1958) (Medallion by Weysset)

On March 7 and 8, 2020, the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra under the baton of its music director, JoAnn Falletta, presented what may well be the North American premiere performances of the suite from Florent Schmitt’s ballet Oriane et le Prince d’Amour.

Composed in 1933-34 for Ida Rubinstein, the famed dancer and dramatic actress who commanded the limelight in Paris from her arrival with the Ballets-Russes in 1908 until her departure from the city at onset of World War II, Oriane represented Schmitt’s final foray into the world of “orientalism.”

The piece is a musical tour de force that stretches the physical limits of the symphony orchestra (augmented by an eight-part mixed chorus à la Daphnis plus a tenor solo as well) that is matched only by the brilliant choreography, lavish set designs and colorful costumes in Rubinstein’s staging.

This virtuosic, über-thrilling work earned praise from fellow composers as diverse as Louis Aubert and Olivier Messiaen. Here are the words of Louis Aubert:

Louis Aubert (1877-1968), photographed in 1928.

“The action of this music upon our senses, our hearts and our minds is so powerful and so bewitching, that we should sometimes have a mind to crave for mercy. But then again, why should we? Grasped by an iron hand, it is only at the very end that we feel it yielding.”

And here is what a young Olivier Messiaen wrote upon seeing the complete ballet premiered in a concert performance in 1937:

“On 12 February, the first performance of Oriane et le prince d’amour, the unparalleled ballet with choruses by Florent Schmitt, was given in a concert version with the Société Philharmonique Orchestra under the direction of the vigorous and passionate Charles Münch.

Olivier Messiaen (1908-1992)

This is a sumptuous work: gleamingly, powerfully, at times overwhelmingly orchestrated. Languid melodies with voluptuously oriental contours; a dance of the Mongols in 5/4 where the harsh root-position minor chords slide modally over dissonant basses; a whispering dance of love for four horns, couched in warm pedals; a sniggering, swarming dance of the mad, with devilish rhythms.

All the hallmarks of Schmitt’s style were present. His language is less impressionist than it used to be. It remains, however, tonal and consonant throughout and reminiscent of Dukas’ La Péri, of Un Jardin sur l’Oronte by [Alfred] Bachelet and of Schmitt’s own famous La Tragédie de Salomé.”

An announcement in the French publication L’Art musical announcing the premiere concert performance of Florent Schmitt’s ballet Oriane et le Prince d’Amour in February 1937, directed by Charles Munch.

Before the ballet reached the Paris Opéra stage in 1938, Florent Schmitt had already prepared a concert suite, consisting of purely orchestral material extracted from the ballet. While less than half the length of the complete score, the suite contains some of the ballet’s most memorable music.

But despite its very positive initial reception, Oriane et le Prince d’Amour is all-but-unknown today. In fact, it may be the most obscure of Florent Schmitt’s large-scale orientalist scores (the others being La Tragédie de Salomé [1907/10], Antoine et Cléopâtre [1920], and Salammbó [1925]).

Oriane has never been revived as a stage production since 1938, and outside of occasional concert broadcasts of the complete ballet or the suite over French National Radio during the 1950s, the piece seems never to have gained a foothold anywhere.

Time to step aside: The 1980s-era first and only commercial recording of Florent Schmitt’s Oriane et le Prince d’Amour Suite.

To my knowledge, up until now neither the suite nor the complete ballet had ever been performed in concert in North America. Moreover, there has been only one commercial recording ever made of the music (the suite only) – a rather substandard production released on the Cybelia label in the 1980s. Unfortunately, that recording doesn’t do the music many favors: the interpretation is hidebound; the orchestral playing only average, and the audio fidelity underwhelming.

But at long last, the fortunes of Oriane are changing for the better. And to see how, we need to first dip back about five years in time.

The 2015 NAXOS recording.

In 2015, the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra and its music director, JoAnn Falletta, made a recording devoted to the orchestral music of Florent Schmitt: the two Antoine et Cléopâtre suites plus the symphonic poem Le Palais hanté. Released on the NAXOS label to near-universal critical accolades, that recording has probably done more than any single thing in recent years to fan the flames of “Florent Schmitt love” on every continent.

And now, the Buffalo Philharmonic and JoAnn Falletta are preparing another NAXOS recording which is planned for a 2020 release, during Schmitt’s 150^th birthday anniversary year. The new recording will contain two major works in addition to two smaller ones.

One of the two “big pieces” is Schmitt’s best-known orchestral composition – La Tragédie de Salomé – while the other one is the Oriane Suite. The two works share a connection not only in their exotic subject matter, but also in Ida Rubinstein’s involvement in their staging.

A poster from the 1919 production of Florent Schmitt’s ballet La Tragédie de Salomé, featuring Ida Rubinstein in the title role.

While she did not dance the premiere of Salomé (that honor goes to Loïe Fuller in 1907), Rubinstein had starred in the fourth Paris mounting of the ballet in 1919. It was working together on that project that sparked a 20-year collaboration between Rubinstein and Schmitt. The fruits of that collaboration included the Antoine et Cléopâtre commission in the following year (a lavish production at the Paris Opéra of Shakespeare’s drama featuring a new French translation by André Gide) and later the Oriane commission (another spare-no-expense theatrical production set to a prose narrative by Claude Séran, the nom de plume of Adrien Fauchier-Magnan).

[For a synopsis of the ballet as well as to read more about the mutually rewarding relationship between Rubinstein and Schmitt, click or tap here and here.]

When considering the various compositions to include in her latest Schmitt recording project, conductor JoAnn Falletta found in Oriane the perfect disk-mate to Salomé. Indeed, it seems as if these two femmes fatales were made for one another in their personification of women with “questionable-but-fascinating” reputations.

Several of the guests who came to Buffalo for the Florent Schmitt concerts join music director JoAnn Falletta for a post-concert dinner (March 2020).

Jumping at the rare chance to experience the Oriane Suite in concert, I was joined by Florent Schmitt devotees from six states who traveled to Buffalo to attend the two weekend concerts prior to the NAXOS recording session.

While in town, I also had the opportunity to visit with Maestra Falletta about the Oriane score and what makes it such a special piece of music. The two of us met at Kleinhans Music Hall following the orchestra’s rehearsal the day before the first concert. Highlights from our interesting discussion are presented below:

PLN: The Oriane Suite isn’t a well-known piece of music — even for Florent Schmitt.  To date it has received just one commercial recording that’s long out-of-print.  What was the strategy behind selecting this piece for performance and also including it in your second all-Schmitt NAXOS album? 

JAF: It was a question of finding pieces that I felt worked well together. The centerpiece, of course, is La Tragédie de Salomé; it’s Schmitt’s most famous orchestral work and I really wanted to include that on the recording. And then the completely unknown jewel is Musique sur l’eau — oh my God, what a piece of music that is! I’m so glad we’re able to make the world premiere recording of that work. 

But I also wanted to find two other pieces to fill out the recording that might relate to the first two in some ways, but that also show a contrasting side of the composer.  

I’ve long been attracted to Schmitt’s exoticism — particularly his fascination with so-called “orientalism.” Schmitt had great interest in the sights and sounds – and even perfumes – of the east. I’ve loved that aspect in Antoine et Cléopâtre and also in Salomé, which are both fantastic, gleaming pieces.  

So our third piece for the recording, the Légende, is a work that made sense in that it has hints of orientalism in its writing. It’s pretty well-known known as a saxophone piece, but we’re actually performing Schmitt’s violin version which is a certainly a rarity. 

A larger work that is our fourth piece on the recording, Oriane et le Prince d’Amour, also has the ambience of something foreign and alluring — along with a real sense of the decadence which also seemed to be a preoccupation of the composer. 

One aspect of Oriane that was very attractive to me was that I could work on preparing a piece that didn’t already have an established performance tradition — something which Salomé certainly has when you consider that famous conductors of the past like Paray, Martinon and Munch had performed and recorded it, not to mention conductors today like Denève, Bringuier and Gabel who perform the piece often.  

In the case of Oriane, there’s been only one recording — and not a particularly successful one at that. So, it has given me an opportunity to look at a piece of music with completely fresh eyes, not being influenced by the weight of history. In fact, I hardly listened to the recording because I wanted to focus solely on the score and treat it on its own terms. 

JoAnn Falletta’s conductor scores for two Florent Schmitt compositions she presented with the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra in March 2020: Oriane et le Prince d’Amour and Légende.

Interestingly, Schmitt leaves a lot to the imagination in this score. He is not as explicit in his markings as we see in the earlier orientalist pieces; he isn’t as “controlling” about things. As a result, I could be flexible in my approach without going against the composer’s expressed intentions. I was able to experiment with some different tempos and different rubatos that aren’t indicated — but that by looking at the musical line, I surmised he wouldn’t have minded me doing.

PLN: With this new recording that you’re making, you will have recorded all three compositions that connect Florent Schmitt to Ida Rubinstein.  How do you see these three scores — Salomé, Cléopâtre and Oriane — fitting with Miss Rubinstein’s outsize life and persona? 

Ida Rubinstetein as Phèdre, set to the music of Ildebrando Pizzetti (1923).

JAF: I think Ida Rubinstein must have reveled in these roles, don’t you? These are women of commanding presence, of noteworthy beauty, and of sex appeal, I suppose. They’re women of extraordinary power — although they don’t necessarily use it to the wisest ends. There’s something about these women which is irresistible and, in some ways, fatal.  

It is certainly interesting that these were the kind of roles that interested her. It could be that in her own life Rubinstein couldn’t measure up to the personas of these women. But there’s something about their allure that she absolutely loved — notwithstanding the havoc that their power wreaked on others. 

When you consider these roles and the stories of the ballets, I think Florent Schmitt must have been the perfect choice to bring them to life in music. In France he may have been the only choice, because if you think of Debussy and Ravel — his two best-known counterparts — they both have a degree of coolness about them.  So while Daphnis et Chloé, for instance, is highly effective and indeed brilliant music, it doesn’t have quite the final measure of wildness that we encounter in Schmitt’s scores. It’s not quite as personal in the same way as Schmitt, who is going “all-in” on the passion, so it seems. 

We also get a similar sense of this in the Mongol dances in the second part of the Oriane Suite, where we can clearly imagine the stunning sets and costumes that must have been part of the stage production.

PLN: When you consider when these three scores were composed – Salomé, Antony & Cleopatra and Oriane – it’s nearly a three-decade span from just before 1910 to the late 1930s.  What are the salient similarities or differences that you detect between them?

JAF: Pretty much all music by Schmitt is challenging, but I think of the three scores, Antony & Cleopatra is the most difficult one that we’ve done. Of course, Oriane is very intense and very brilliant – it’s virtuoso writing that requires skill in navigating fast tempos and some difficult passages, along with maintaining a high level of energy throughout. But it isn’t quite as difficult technically.  

Ida Rubinstein as Cleopatra. (Paris, 1920)

However, what is challenging about Oriane is in successfully coalescing the sections that make up the suite. In Antony & Cleopatra, where there are six self-contained movements, this was easier to accomplish than in Oriane which is around 20 minutes of music without any distinct breaks. So, one big challenge is to establish a musical and emotional “arc” in the work, which you can do if you approach the music a certain way. Schmitt brings back various passages — the melodic material — at different times during the course of the suite. It’s that yearning leitmotiv in particular that we associate with the persona of Oriane, and it’s very important when it returns at the end of the suite, too.  

Our two concert performances predate the recording session by about a week, so I intend to listen to playbacks of the concerts and think about how well everything is working with the tempos and rubato. I’ll give the musicians my feedback, too. I feel the recording will be even better as a result.

A page from Florent Schmitt’s manuscript score for Oriane et le Prince d’Amour, showing the composer’s characteristic small, meticulous penmanship.

PLN: The arts critic Steven Kruger has characterized Florent Schmitt’s orientalist scores in an interesting way:  “sensuality-as-defilement.”  It’s true that the heroines of these compositions — including Salammbó, his fourth large-scale orientalist work — involve women who one could characterize as scheming, manipulative, or even evil.  Do you see a larger pattern at work here? 

JAF: I think one can easily have the impression that Schmitt was somehow drawn to these characters. There’s this sense of danger, but also a sort of irresistible attraction. Schmitt must have been attracted to these alluring worlds and to these roles in ways that go far beyond simply fulfilling the stipulations of a commission from Rubinstein.  

You can feel that Schmitt is invested in these women and with these roles in a very personal way — and that he was able to explore his sense of imagination and musical color in this way. You feel that he is reveling in it.

PLN: Regarding the Oriane Suite, what particular challenges have the BPO musicians faced in mastering this music?  How have they approached preparing the music for performance and recording? 

JAF: Well, by now our orchestra has played enough Florent Schmitt to understand his musical world. So, for this concert it has been easier for them to prepare the music than has been the case in the past. There are undeniable similarities in this piece in its structure and character which the musicians already know from their other experiences with Schmitt. Of course, they also know that Schmitt’s music is difficult to play, so they’ve come to our rehearsals thoroughly prepared. 

But in particular, I’ve been very intrigued by the composer’s use of the 7/4-time signature throughout the suite. Schmitt has a daring rhythmic sense in many of his works, but this 7/4 really requires a lot of sustaining to get the sense of line — achieving that one long breath. We’ve worked a lot on rubato and how to treat those long lines in a way that’s most musically effective. Keeping them completely square can’t be what Schmitt had in mind. Instead, the 7/4 rhythm conveys a feeling of breathing and movement over time. 

We found that we needed to try different interpretive approaches during our rehearsals, experimenting all along the way. Getting the musicians to be flexible in their approach is always part of the challenge. Often when they encounter music of a certain difficulty, the automatic response is to approach things “by the book” and to look for the most “logical” answer. But that isn’t what Schmitt wants. Of course Schmitt wants rhythmic integrity, but he wants it in the service of all of this excitement and wildness. 

The dress rehearsal for the March 2020 concerts featuring two Florent Schmitt compositions: Légende and Oriane et le Prince d’Amour.

Even in the Dance of Love where we have the passages in 7/4, the musicians were being extra-careful to play the seven beats, which actually gave the music a stilted feeling. But we know that isn’t what Schmitt wanted; the whole idea of seven beats was signaling a long line. It shouldn’t be like a bar of three and a bar of four, bopping along from bar to bar in the manner of Roussel or Stravinsky — where it’s right there and you finish it and go on to the next bar.  

In the Oriane score, it’s always left unfinished somehow — a feeling of reaching and longing and temptation, perhaps. So, it was important to play that rhythm with a kind of intrinsic rubato that make the passages feel flexible, alluring, dangerous — but also free. After all, these are nights of passion — dances of passion — and the music just flows.  

Our musicians are achieving it now after a good deal of work, and with each rehearsal the passages are “breathing” more and the interpretation is coming together the way I envision it should.

PLN: Has there been special preparation on the part of any of the musicians, beyond the usual pre-rehearsal practicing of their parts?

JoAnn Falletta

JAF: As far as any special preparation goes, we have had to deal with the lack of a jeu de timbres in the orchestra, which is part of Schmitt’s score. You just don’t see a keyboard glockenspiel in orchestras today; I’m not aware of any American orchestra that has one. Our percussionists came up with a novel solution in having the keyboard glock notes played by the celesta, and then using our concert bells to double the upper line from the jeu de timbres part.  

This way, we can preserve the special sound of the bells while also making sure that every note is covered by one of the tuned percussion instruments. It’s resulting in a sound that’s much brighter and more brilliant than what you hear (or more accurately can’t hear) in the one recording of this piece, since apparently they didn’t play the part at all.

PLN: I find the sinister horn calls that open the suite to be some of the most ominous passages in all of classical music.  They’re unforgettable.  What are your thoughts on those passages? 

JAF: At the outset, not only do the French horns sound ominous, the rhythm is different in every single bar. It’s so detailed in what Schmitt wants, it’s astonishing — but it also adds to the sense of danger and unpredictability. 

For the trumpet calls that come in next, the composer has marked those parts piano, but we’ve actually been experimenting with playing them more brilliantly. We’re still experimenting, and I can see the merits of both approaches. Check back in at the concert and on the recording to see where we end up with this!

PLN: If I understand correctly, there is a slight modification that you’ve made near the beginning of the suite, interpolating a fragment from the complete ballet score.  Can you tell us about the decision to make this modification, and how it changes that particular moment in the suite as a result? 

Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra principal harpist Grace Browning (l.) joined Buffalo Philharmonic principal harpist Madeline Olson (r.) to play the all-important harp parts in Florent Schmitt’s Oriane Suite.

JAF: There is a passage which appears twice in the ballet, at the beginning and at the end of the second act. It’s nearly identical except for an important pizzicato for the strings that occurs in the middle of the harp glissando. This happens in the complete score the second time only, but Schmitt selected the first passage for the suite. Instead, we’re using the second passage which I feel is quite special in its added emphasis. It isn’t really a change but actually a switch, as the music is all Schmitt’s. 

I have to say, the change makes that moment more brilliant — particularly as it’s in the midst of this wild passage for the harps. The pizzicato kind of gives it an exclamation point — a center of sound at the top of the scale.

A “red alert” late change served up by Florent Schmitt for the staging of Oriane et le Prince d’Amour in 1938. Was it requested by Ida Rubinstein or someone else? We’ll never know …

PLN: Considering the musical forces that are required to present the complete ballet – including a tenor soloist plus an eight-part mixed chorus – it’s likely that we won’t see a live performance or commercial recording of it anytime soon.  Is that something you’d want to do if given the chance? 

JAF: I like the idea of the ballet suite, because it indicates that Florent Schmitt wanted to preserve the music and see it have a life on the concert stage. It means that the composer felt the music would work in concert without the need for dancers. The suite preserves what Schmitt thinks is most beautiful in the score. We don’t need to ask him, “What are your favorite spots in the ballet?”, because there they are — right here in the suite. 

Generally, I’m not a big fan of presenting full ballets in concert, without the dancing, because so often there are sections that the composer would never have created for the concert stage because they serve mainly to propel the action along.  

A circa 1930s photograph of Florent Schmitt, inscribed by the composer with the yearning love theme from Oriane et le Prince d’Amour.

What’s included the Oriane Suite is very dramatic music – and also very passionate and mysterious, too. Whether you know the story line or not, listeners get a great sense of drama from the suite. Schmitt has selected very brilliant moments from the ballet, but these are interspersed with very tender, yearning passages as well. And it all comes together wonderfully. 

Also, when you consider that the Dance of Love at the beginning of the suite comes from Act II of the full ballet, as compared to the Act I Dance of the Mongols which is placed in the latter part of the suite, you realize that Schmitt organized his suite based on the musical flow, rather than adhering to any particular storyline.

Now, it is true that there are certain complete ballets that have found a life in the concert hall — like Stravinsky’s Le Sacre or Pétrouchka or Ravel’s Daphnis – or even Schmitt’s own Salomé. But these are pieces that work better as absolute music or as tone poems than they do as ballets. In fact, they work so well that most people don’t even think of them as ballets anymore.  

But those are the exceptions that prove the rule. So no, I don’t think I’ll be performing the complete Oriane in the future, but I certainly hope to have more opportunities to present the suite!

PLN: In closing, do you have any further thoughts to share about your journey of discovery with Florent Schmitt, and the Oriane Suite in particular?

JAF: I have to say that the Oriane Suite is beautifully scored music, with a lot to do for all the musicians. It’s a heavy score with a lot going on musically. With Schmitt, you can generally hear everything but we’ve worked on balancing things to favor particular instruments in particular moments, which adds to the overall colorful effect.  

And of course, as with most of Schmitt’s scores, the more you study them, the more you see and the more you discover. They have great depth as well as breadth. 

With regards to Florent Schmitt in general, I’ve come to appreciate his music more and more – the sense of structure that he has and the exquisite skill of his writing. This is not a composer who throws a score together; Schmitt is a man who meticulously creates his musical world. It’s a world that’s full of challenges, but it is a fascinating and beautiful one. 

It’s also filled with things that seem a little unusual, surprising, or even a little jarring — moments that pass by quickly but where you’re absolutely sure you heard something important and consequential. That’s the fascination and beauty of it. 

The Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra concert program from March 7-8, 2020, inscribed by conductor JoAnn Falletta.

Florent Schmitt should be played so much more than he has been up to now. If you look closely at his musical legacy, it’s hard not to conclude that his importance within French music is nearly at the same level as Debussy and Ravel. This was well-understood during his time, and little by little we are starting to realize that again today.  

Without Schmitt, we are actually missing a big chunk of French musical history. Let’s not forget that Schmitt outlived Ravel and Debussy by many years, and therefore he was absorbing much more in the way of other influences over that time. Schmitt changed and grew as a composer throughout his long creative career — all while remaining true to himself. One can’t fully understand the French musical landscape without taking into account Schmitt’s scores, which are so spectacular. 

Les Apaches, pictured in Georges d’Espagnat’s painting from 1910. Florent Schmitt is at far left … Maurice Ravel on the right. Whereas Schmitt was five years older than Ravel, he outlived his counterpart by two decades and enjoyed a composition career spanning some 70 years compared to Ravel’s 35.

Some composers who have long lives outlive their fame in a way — and for no good reason other than tastes that change and the younger generation can’t see that the music still matters. Consider that when Schmitt began composing it was still the era of Franck and Saint-Saens, but when he died it was the era of Messiaen and Boulez. By contrast, Debussy and Ravel died much younger, and so their reputation sort of crystallized before the time when French classical music became so radical, squeezing out a voice like Schmitt’s. 

Speaking in particular about our upcoming recording, I have hopes that the shorter pieces on it will spark the interest of other conductors in performing them. That includes the Oriane Suite because it lasts only about 20 minutes, or even a bit less. It’s even something that could be placed at the beginning of a concert program, replacing an overture or shorter tone poem. 

In the end, the test for any music is this: When it’s played, do people respond to it positively? In the case of Florent Schmitt, the answer is a resounding “yes”! When Schmitt is performed, audiences love it. Musicians love it. And NAXOS, with their international marketing reach, will help spread the appeal, too.

___________________

Having been fortunate to attend the Buffalo Philharmonic concerts in 2019 and 2020 in which all of the works planned for the new NAXOS recording were performed so beautifully, I have no doubt that the release will prove to be every bit as successful as the first Florent Schmitt recording by Maestra Falletta and the BPO. Here’s hoping we won’t have to wait longer than a few months for its release!

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Légende, composed in 1918 for saxophone but later arranged by the composer for viola and also for violin.

On March 6 and 7, 2020, the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of its music director, JoAnn Falletta, presented Florent Schmitt’s Légende, Op. 66 in concert. But it wasn’t the customary version for saxophone that the composer had created in 1918, but rather the version prepared several years later that features a solo violin. Nikki Chooi, the recently appointed BPO concertmaster (and formerly concertmaster at the MET Orchestra in New York City), was the featured soloist.

What’s more, the orchestra and soloist were slated to record the piece as part of a new NAXOS album devoted to the music of Florent Schmitt – the BPO’s second such recording. That news was doubly welcome in that whereas the saxophone version of the Légende has been recorded often in its piano and orchestral incarnations, Nikki Chooi’s will be the world premiere recording of Schmitt’s violin version with orchestra.

Composed at the end of World War I, Schmitt’s Légende has an interesting history. The piece was commissioned by Elise Hall, a wealthy Franco-American socialite who was also an amateur saxophone player. Hall was responsible for commissioning new works from a number of (primarily) French composers including Claude Debussy, Vincent d’Indy, Léon Moreau and André Caplet in addition to Schmitt. Taken as a whole, these commissions helped raise the profile of the saxophone as an instrument worthy of being taken seriously in the realm of classical music.

Violinist Nikki Chooi and conductor JoAnn Falletta following the performance of Florent Schmitt’s Légende with the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra on March 7, 2020.

Of Elise Hall’s commissions, arguably the Schmitt and Debussy works have achieved the greatest fame – not least because both have become “standard repertoire” fare in highly recognized classical saxophone competitions such as the annual Adolphe Sax International and Andorra SaxFest events.

Within several years of penning his original saxophone/piano version of Légende, Schmitt had orchestrated the music as well as produced two other versions of the piece – one featuring viola solo and the other the violin. While there are differences in the solo parts – no doubt to conform to the qualities of all three instruments – the differences aren’t all that pronounced. Furthermore, there are no variances at all in the orchestral parts.

Was the preparation of multiple versions done by Florent Schmitt to fulfill a request on the part of other soloists who saw the potential for their instruments? Or did Durand et Cie., Schmitt’s longtime publisher, wish to increase its appeal to a significantly larger group of solo players?

The answer isn’t clear. But what we do know is that the Légende remains far better-known in its saxophone incarnation. There have been several dozen commercial recordings of that version of the piece made – although nearly all of them with piano rather than orchestra.

Beyond that, live performances of the piece abound on YouTube and other social platforms.

By contrast, the viola version of the piece has been commercially recorded just once (a circa 1990 Cybelia recording with orchestra), while the violin version has had just one commercial recording as well – with piano instead of orchestral garb.

So, the new NAXOS recording with Chooi and the Buffalo Philharmonic is a premiere of sorts – and very welcome news.

Guests who came from out of state pose with Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra music director JoAnn Falletta and concertmaster Nikki Chooi, following their performance of Florent Schmitt’s Légende (March 2020).

In March 2020, I had the opportunity to attend the BPO concerts that preceded the recording of the Légende, which were a highly effective performances and a huge hit with the audience. Prior to those concerts, I had the opportunity to visit with violinist Nikki Chooi to ask him about his experience in preparing the piece for performance and recording.  In addition, I wished to explore the similarities and differences between Schmitt’s three versions of the piece.

So Janz Castelo, a veteran member of the BPO’s viola section who also knows the Légende, joins us in our discussion. Rounding out the discussion was Louis-Philippe Bonin, a prominent Canadian saxophonist who has made the most recent commercial recording of the Légende in its original sax version (released in February 2020 on the ATMA label).

[Because Bonin was prevented from traveling to Buffalo due to prior performing commitments in Montreal, he participated in the interview “remotely.”]

Highlights of our very interesting discussion are presented below.

PLN: What were your initial impressions of Florent Schmitt’s Légende when you first encountered it? What feelings did it evoke for you personally?

Louis-Phillipe Bonin

Louis-Philippe Bonin: I was first attracted to this piece because of its title, which I thought was unusual; this was early-on in my studies on the saxophone. I was used to encountering concertos or sonatas. The title of Légende, which seemed to imply the lack of a predetermined formal structure, piqued my curiosity.

It’s also a work that I heard relatively often in university recitals. It has the reputation of being an easy-to-play work due to the absence of major technical difficulties for the soloist. On the other hand, unlike many works for saxophone and piano it requires great maturity and musical sensitivity to play well — not to mention being able to control the softer nuances of the musical passages as much as possible.

I believed for a long time that it was a secondary work – that is, until the moment I took a close look at the piece. It was then that I came to understand the complexity that this work poses for saxophone players!

The 2015 NAXOS recording.

Janz Castelo: For me, the first time I came across the piece was several years ago when the Buffalo Philharmonic was playing the pieces for our 2015 recording of Schmitt’s music. I was investigating what Schmitt might have written for viola and came across the Légende online, in what I think is the only recording of the viola version.

I also looked at the part, and immediately realized that the version for viola is incredibly difficult. As it turns out, the solo parts for the violin and viola versions of the piece are almost the same. So, if you hear the violin playing, just imagine the viola playing those same notes in the same register and how much more difficult that would be. So, I guess my first impression was, “Holy crap!  This is difficult!”

Nikki Chooi (Photo: Den Sweeney)

Nikki Chooi: The first thing I did after I got hold of the violin solo part was to listen to an alto sax recording. What struck me were the colors that Schmitt evokes in the piece, and the gestures as well. Those are two main characteristics that recur throughout the music: the one maestoso phrase that repeats throughout the work, and then the almost-melismatic passages where there’s not really a melody, but more like a cascade of notes.

Janz Castelo: Like Nikki says, the colors and textures are quite amazing. This is a piece that’s all about color and texture. I mean, you aren’t going to go home singing a melody from this piece, but instead remembering the color, texture, and how it’s orchestrated — how the music moves from one instrument to the next – sometimes the soloist and sometimes in the orchestra, and varying the timbre of the sustained notes.

Nikki Chooi: Yes, there’s a lot of back-and-forth give-and-take happening with different instruments in the melodic lines — between myself and maybe the oboe, the first-stand violins, or other instruments of the orchestra.

PLN: The Légende dates from 1918, which was the year World War I ended. To some listeners, the brooding character of the piece suggests the impact that the war may have had on Florent Schmitt, who like many other Frenchmen served at the front during several years of the conflict. Do you come away with that same sense as well?

Nikki Chooi: It is indeed a dark and brooding work. There is such atmosphere and color in the orchestration intertwined with the solo part. As I study and work on this piece, I try to evoke the many emotions embedded within it, and it only makes me wonder what Florent Schmitt was going through as he was writing this.

Louis-Philippe Bonin: The war’s influence is possible, although I believe that Florent Schmitt’s deep interest in the Orient (and “orientalism” in music) had greater influence on the works he wrote during this period. The Légende is imbued with Schmitt’s passion for oriental music (particularly from Turkey); it’s harmonically very charged, very voluptuous, and imbued with great sensuality. You might say that the soloist does not “sing,” but “tells.”

Achille-Claude Debussy. Florent Schmitt (b. 1870) was born in between Debussy (b. 1864) and Maurice Ravel (b. 1875), but would outlive both composers by decades.

Along those lines, I also detect the influence of Debussy: Think in particular of the suave, sensual melodic lines of Prélude à l’après-midi d’une faune and of the Saxophone Rhapsody, where the melodic inflections have a very similar quality to what we hear in the Légende.

Schmitt’s hostility to academism and other restrictions imposed by the tradition of the Paris Conservatoire drove him to create a piece that is resolutely French, but also tinged with his love for non-European musical influences. It’s for this reason that this work is nearly unique in the repertoire for saxophone.

Janz Castelo: I think we can easily read more into war correlation possibilities than what’s really warranted. It’s easy to look back with revisionist history and impute connections that weren’t actually there. I agree that there’s more of an orientalist flavor than a reaction to wartime experiences. There is a certain exoticism about the piece; the harmonies are quite exotic.  The music is very beautiful, but in a dark way.

PLN: One could say that the Légende has become “legendary” in the classical saxophone world. These days it is a staple among the pieces used in adjudicating sax performance competitions around the world. By contrast, the versions for violin and viola are less-known and performed far less often. To what do you attribute this difference in fortunes?

Louis-Philippe Bonin: I think there are several reasons why the work is hardly ever played on violin or viola. The most obvious one is that the Légende isn’t among the works taught in large institutions, which makes awareness of the piece less — unlike the original version for saxophone which has been taught by the great pedagogues for several decades, all over the world.

Janz Castelo

Janz Castelo: The original version of this piece was scored for the saxophone, and the viola version came a year later — in 1919, I think. The violin version wasn’t prepared by Schmitt until the mid-1920s. I think this is significant. In the early 20th century, composers, particularly in France, were seeing what they could do to integrate the saxophone into the classical world. Some did a better job than others. Even today, the saxophone is something of a novelty in a classical orchestra. But this piece shows Florent Schmitt being somewhat progressive at the time.

It’s just conjecture, but I suspect that Schmitt might have prepared the viola version when someone approached him and said that the piece would work well on the viola. And a few years later, perhaps a violinist might have suggested the same thing.

Louis-Philippe Bonin: There’s another factor that may be at work as well.  With many pieces for saxophone commissioned in those times, publishers might have been worried about the ability to achieve good sales, and were inclined to also offer transcriptions when publishing these new works. It’s the reason why we see so many original works for saxophone that also have versions prepared for violin, clarinet, viola and so forth. The publisher would have an advantage in making the piece available to other instruments, because there were so few saxophonist soloists active in classical music in the early 20th century. Such a mercantile consideration may be why we have these other versions of the Légende that are playable on the violin and the viola.

A woman of great wealth, impeccable taste in composers … but somewhat less impressive musical talents: Elise Hall (1853-1924).

I’d also point out that the Légende has particular historical value because it was one of the works commissioned at the beginning of the century by a wealthy benefactor, Elise Hall, who was also an amateur saxophone player. She commissioned works from the leading French composers of the day – pieces like the Saxophone Rhapsody of Debussy, the Choral Varié by Vincent d’Indy, the Légende by André Caplet and of course Florent Schmitt’s own Légende.

These commissions helped raise the profile of the saxophone in the classical music circles of that time. With these pieces, the saxophone entered the big leagues and began to be taken more seriously by classical musicians in Europe and the United States.

PLN: When you consider the solo writing in the Légende, do you see it as idiomatic for your respective instruments? Are there particular passages in the score that appeal to you most strongly?

Louis-Philippe Bonin: When looking at the differences between the versions for saxophone and those for violin and viola, we can see that the melodic lines written in the low and high notes are written somewhat easier for the saxophone. There is also a practical reason that has to do with the person who commissioned the creation of the Légende. Elise Hall was a wealthy patron but a poor musician, frankly. It’s quite likely that Florent Schmitt tempered the difficulty of the saxophone part to ensure that she could actually play it! As in Debussy’s Saxophone Rhapsody, the saxophone is used mainly in its medium register and isn’t called upon to play purely virtuoso passages, making it easier to perform from a technique standpoint.

I should add that today, the pedagogy of the technical and expressive capacities of the saxophone has greatly evolved. A majority of classical saxophonists now play these works by choosing to add the notes which were originally reserved for other solo instruments. A good example of this is the 1943 C-sharp Minor Sonata by Fernande Decruck.

The Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra concert program from March 7-8, 2020, inscribed by violinist Nikki Chooi and conductor JoAnn Falletta.

Janz Castelo: I like the saxophone version of this piece, because the contrast of the saxophone against the orchestra is more than what you have with a string soloist. The viola matches the register of the alto sax better than the violin, and we’d already seen historical examples of wind pieces being transcribed for the viola with hardly any changes to the parts. But that doesn’t get around the challenge of differentiating the sound of the viola from the rest of the orchestra, which is more difficult than with the saxophone.

I’ve studied all three solo parts for the Légende, and the viola part actually goes a bit lower than the saxophone in several spots. In addition, in some of the pickup gestures, the viola has a few more notes than the sax — and it’s even more embellished in the violin part.  I wouldn’t say that any one solo instrument part is “better” than the other — they’re just a little different.

Nikki Chooi: Rehearsing the piece over the course of the last few days, I’m getting the sense that the writing in the orchestra is very thick. I have to work really hard to get my sound above that of the orchestra. There may be different ways to color it, but I’ve found that to cut through the orchestra, I have to work very hard at it.

The dress rehearsal for the March 2020 concerts featuring two Florent Schmitt compositions: Légende and Oriane et le Prince d’Amour.

I’m not trying to approach the music the way a saxophonist might play it — the tone quality, the timing it takes, or how the music breathes. I’m trying to imagine what I can do to spin out the lines while using vibrato, bowing, playing closer to the bridge and all of that. I’m trying to create those special sound qualities for my particular instrument — as well as being heard. 

Janz Castelo: An alto sax would cut through better, volume-wise, simply because the sax is a louder instrument. In an orchestra, you typically have one saxophone but many violins and violas. For this reason, we’ve had to work on balances a bit. Even through the score says forte in some of the tutti orchestral passages, we have to keep in mind that we have a string soloist, not a sax soloist.

In some ways the viola may be the better stringed instrument choice. Even though the violin can play higher, the piece sits in the middle register for the violin, whereas on the viola it sits in our upper register — on the A-string where it’s much more piercing. Our A-string is not as piercing as a violin’s E-string, but our A-string is definitely more piercing than a violin’s A-string – or even the D-string where a lot of this piece lies for the soloist. It’s just at a lower register for the violin.

Nikki Chooi: That’s true. For us, the higher register is not used very much in this piece, except in a few flourishes that were added by Schmitt expressly for the violin version of the piece. But the main line, if you were to follow it, is all on the A- and D-strings. That’s why it presents something of a challenge, but I’ve been working with the conductor and the orchestra on adjusting the dynamics.

Curtain call for violinist Nikki Chooi following his performance of Florent Schmitt’s Légende with the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of JoAnn Falletta (March 7, 2019).

As for these flourishes and gestures we’re talking about, they seem very pianistic to me. You can just imagine Schmitt or some other good pianist tossing those off very nicely. And for the sax it also seems very idiomatic for that instrument. But for violinists and violists, we have positions, and while I’ve been trying to make these a single gesture, it isn’t exactly easy. We have to work on elaborate fingerings and crossing strings in order to find a way to make it sound organic.

Also, at the beginning of the piece there are many arpeggios. The way the saxophone can play those is a pretty common form of arpeggios, but for us it’s a bit of a struggle. My strategy is to not to think of how a saxophonist might play them, and instead try to make them as “violinistic” as possible.

Other than that, the piece doesn’t pose too many technical challenges for me as a soloist — apart from getting the most sound that I can and project over the orchestra.

Janz Castelo: I’ve noted another interesting difference between the three solo instrument parts. The saxophone part has very long slurs and lines, whereas in the violin and viola solo parts it’s a lot more broken up, just to make the notes pop out. Of course, a saxophonist can hold their breath longer than we can play the length of our bow!

When comparing between the violin and viola versions, I do think that the viola version allows you to create a darker sound. In the opening solo phrase for instance, the open G of the violin sounds better on the viola because we can play it on the C-string and vibrate it. On the other hand, the parts being in the same register make our playing a lot more challenging over the course of the piece — particularly when we’re having to go high up on the scale. Many viola concerto repertoire standards are a lot easier to play than this piece, it turns out. I wouldn’t say it’s unplayable, but there are a lot of places in the Legende where as a viola soloist, you’re touching your nose.

The only recording so far of the viola version of Florent Schmitt’s Légende (Cybelia label, ca. 1990).

In the one viola recording that exists, there are spots where the orchestra almost drowns out some challenging viola passages. I don’t know how many takes they did, but you can only conclude that there were some major acrobatics going on just to be able to achieve what they got on that recording.  So, in that sense it isn’t very idiomatic writing for the viola.

PLN: What technical challenges, if any, does the music present for soloists? In your view, what special approaches or nuances does it take to deliver an artistically successful interpretation?

Louis-Philippe Bonin: For saxophonists, the work generally does not pose great virtuoso demands. There are certain passages that require special attention — diminished arpeggios played rather quickly that are written in irregular rhythms — but all-in-all those can be an interesting but easily handled challenge for any serious player.

The problem is greater when it comes to the piano part. Faithful to his fine talent as a composer for the piano, Florent Schmitt does not spare pianists — instead writing a complex and very busy score with three staves!

My favorite interpretations are those where the saxophonist doesn’t approach the work from a technical standpoint, but rather focuses on the warmth, the roundness and the sensuality of the sound. A mastery of impeccable phrasing must be the key to a successful interpretation – not to mention good intonation and an ability to change the timbre according to the musical context. Unlike many works for saxophone and piano, the soloist should not “sing” but try as much as possible to “tell a story.” Therein lies the biggest challenge of the Légende for saxophonists!

Nikki Chooi: I think the key is to be flexible.  We have three different solo instrument versions and then there’s the piano accompaniment and the orchestral version, too. Each one has their own particular characteristics, and they result in a very different feel.  My first rehearsal of the piece with the orchestra was eye-opening. Afterwards, I went back and fiddled around with the bowings to create more sound.  Sometimes I’m taking three bows to play just one sustained note — otherwise I just don’t get the volume that’s needed in some of the big climaxes in the piece.

The score to Florent Schmitt’s version of Légende for violin and orchestra, which was presented by Nikki Chooi and the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra in March 2020.

Janz Castelo: Some of these issues are difficult to resolve, and perhaps it’s better not to try. In terms of how to approach the piece artistically, at some point you just have to go with the music in broad terms. It’s not thinking about how a saxophone versus a viola or violin might play it, because some of the material just doesn’t fit well. Instead, just go for the music and figure out “how I’m going to make this work.” I like to say that you have to get into the “Schmitt Zone,” instead of focusing on your instrument’s limitations!

Let’s face it: I don’t think Schmitt was very concerned with how difficult the soloist would find the part – other than perhaps Elise Hall. He just wrote music. But this is where the rehearsals come in, where we can experiment with different ideas and see how they turn out.

PLN: Are there any additional thoughts or insights that you’d like to share about this piece, or this composer in general?

Guests who traveled from six states to see the Buffalo Philharmonic perform Florent Schmitt’s music enjoy a post-concert dinner with several members of the orchestra including violist Janz Castelo (March 2020).

Janz Castelo: From an artistic point of view I’d like to say this: If you take Schmitt’s incredibly lush orchestration and tinker with it too much, or attempt to thin it out, it won’t be as satisfying. It’s finding the fine balance that works for the soloist as well as being faithful to the composer’s intentions that is the key to success with Florent Schmitt.

Nikki Chooi: We’re going to be recording this piece in a week’s time. I’m hoping that in the recording I can do much more in the way of nuances and preserving the slurs a little more, which I think I should be able to do more easily because of the miking. In the live performances, my goal is quite simple: it’s for the audience to be able to hear me!

Florent Schmitt headlines a concert of French saxophone music played by Ensemble SaxoLogie, Louis-Philippe Bonin’s quartet dedicated to performing the best of the classical saxophone repertoire.

Louis-Philippe Bonin: Today, the saxophone is a solo instrument that is written for by some of the best-known and most prolific composers in the world. The repertoire is vastly bigger than it once was, and it encompasses vast musical styles ranging from the Romanticism of Glazunov to the minimalist music of John Adams.

Florent Schmitt’s music has also experienced a renaissance in classical music programming in recent years. Let’s hope that these two trends will converge, and that musical ensembles will be inspired to include more of these works in their programming, helping to diversify the repertoire of our symphony orchestras away from a reliance on so much of the same core repertoire.

Janz Castelo: The BPO has now played a fair number of Florent Schmitt’s works. In fact, we’ve probably played more Schmitt than any other orchestra in the world, except maybe in France. Now that I know more of Schmitt and have a good grasp of his style, I wonder if music was an escape for him? He had this sound in his head, and went back to that well often.  Even though there’s a span of 40 years between the various Schmitt pieces that we’ve played, he seems to have retained his own voice throughout. There’s a consistency to it — the atmosphere, the texture and so forth.

Clearly, that well was deep, because he continued to draw inspiration from it over many decades.

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The newest commercial recording of the saxophone version of Florent Schmitt’s Légende: Louis-Philippe Bonin (released in February 2020 on the ATMA label).

There’s certainly no disagreeing with Janz Castelo about Florent Schmitt’s reservoir of musical ideas, which he was able to mine again and again over a composing career lasting more than 70 years. Indeed, my engaging conversation with these three consummate musical artists helps us understand what went into Schmitt’s creative process – and the fine results.

We’re also grateful for the newest saxophone recording of Schmitt’s Légende, made by Louis-Philippe Bonin — even as we look forward with anticipation to Nikki Chooi’s violin version, due for release by NAXOS later this year.