Guest post by Frances Jones

In the days before self-service machines, when library books were issued by hand and date-stamped, I would feel sorry when I opened a book to see it last stamped more than a decade before. I thought of the volume standing slightly lop-sided on the shelf, waiting for a person to stop and take it home. I’ve been feeling a similar way recently, as I take down off my shelf music that I haven’t looked at for years. One such collection is Francis Poulenc’s Three Novelettes, speckled with a scattering of pencil markings and an old PIN for a bank card. So last year I sat down and learned the first of the Novelettes, playing it in an informal concert for my students (they are very forgiving of my significant lapse in regular practice).

Even as I discover more of Poulenc’s piano music, Novelette No. 1 remains one of my favourite works by this French composer. Written in 1927, when Poulenc was about 28, it’s a joyful piece and full of character. The opening melody is serenely beautiful, and it always gives me a sense of calm. Enjoy this for its own sake, it’s saying; just listen, and stop rushing around. It floats over an arpeggiated bassline in C major and although there are discords, they are so subtle as to pass almost unnoticed. There’s then a minor section, where the discordancy becomes more obvious, but it’s over with quickly and after a lyrical passage we’re into a bawdy dance; I can just imagine drinkers stomping round the bar in days gone by. A reflective passage follows and we head away from the party back into the peaceful serenity of the opening theme, with the thick chords near the end sounding bell-like in their brightness.

Novelette No. 2 is, on first hearing, very different. It brings to mind, for me, a company of elves, cavorting around a woodland fire. The upbeat tempo, staccato articulation and use of the piano’s range helps conjure up this image. The melody is so dance-like, but light and quick, suggesting something other than even the most agile of human dancers. Introduced to this revelry is a stately tune that threatens to calm the festivities, but it lasts merely a few bars before tumbling down and jostling with the opening pixie theme, eventually succumbing in a ff glissando. The opening music returns, and the elves dance away into the night, sans relentir.

There is a third Novelette, which was written many years later, in 1959. For me, it feels like a separate piece; it’s based on a theme by Manuel de Falla, and is beautiful, yes, but also nostalgic and reflective with a tinge of melancholy. To me, it’s another example of Poulenc seeming to make the task of composition so easy. The melody soars above the bass and then appears in the middle of the piano before flying up again and ending at peace, or so I like to think.

I was introduced to Poulenc’s music through the ABRSM; Improvisation No 13 by Francis Poulenc was on the Grade 8 piano list around the turn of the millennium and I still have the collection. Written in 1958, this Improvisation is wistful and yearning; a composer looking back, perhaps. Poulenc had a playful nature, but there was a deeply serious side to his character, which is evident in so much of his work (his piano pieces are just a small part of his output). Poulenc’s writing is so expressive, and although there’s a melancholy air scattered across his piano music, somehow I always find it uplifting (with the possible exception of Mélancolie itself, written in 1945). It’s the ability to seemingly pluck a melody out of the air that I love; his writing is both graceful and perfectly formed, and with bursts of humour that show a different side of his personality.

Replaying the Novelettes has spurred me on to find more of Poulenc’s piano music. I love the first Nocturne but haven’t looked properly at the other seven, nor learnt the Impromptus. Despite the fact that attempting any of the above will be a challenge, I can’t wait.

Frances Jones read music at York University followed by a PGCE at Cambridge. She teaches piano in SW London.