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Guest post by Frances Jones

As a big fan of Poulenc’s music, I’m delighted to see his Concerto for Two Pianos on the Proms programme this year. It’s an exciting piece, both for performers and audience alike, and great to see in concert. But it’s the solo repertoire that occupies my thoughts at the moment, as I try to get to grips with another of his Nocturnes. I mentioned in a previous article back in May that I was working on the first Nocturne and although I haven’t made as much progress as I might in learning the rest, snatches of these sublime musical portraits have been flitting around my head like moths around a camp-fire (more on moths later).

There are eight Nocturnes, composed between 1929 and 1938 when Francis Poulenc was in his 30s. Some of them have descriptive titles, suggesting glimpses of civilised nocturnal scenes, and they alternate between the serenely beautiful and the fast and furious.

Number 1 falls into the first category; Poulenc’s ability to write a beautiful melody is proven in the opening bars, and he uses the range of the piano and takes unexpected harmonic turns as the music progresses. It is at once original, with an edge of melancholy, and also deeply comforting to listen to. Despite the discords, the music always resolves but almost never to a straightforward major chord; there’s always a note that ‘jars’ slightly with the rest. I like to think this is Poulenc’s way of telling us that, whilst there might be great beauty in the world, there is no such thing as perfection in life and his music does not intend to escape this.

Number 3, ‘Les Cloches de Malines’, gives us the bell-like sound promised in the title. He sets up an almost-repeated bassline to represent the bells, switching from 3 time to 4 time and back so it feels out of kilter; with Poulenc, there is always a twist. After being lulled into a false sense of security with the bells’ gentle music, there is a bar of complete silence, followed by a passage of brash accented chords, marked agité. It is as if the bells have gone rogue, and reminds me of one of Charles Dickens’ Christmas stories, in which the traveller is tormented by incessant ringing and imagines climbing up the church tower to the bells which have taken on frightening forms. He awakes in the morning and, of course, it’s all been a dream. So it is in this nocturne; after the clanging and clashing there’s another bar of silence and the familiar bassline of the opening returns; all is well, and normality has been restored.

The fifth nocturne is a portrait of moths (‘Phalènes’) and, as the music is both presto and staccato in the opening section, these insects seem to be clamouring around a light; a street-lamp perhaps, or a glint from a window. The music is animated and there’s no real let-up until the end. It switches between pp and f, even ff, from legato to staccato, until finally coming to rest with a big sforzando chord.

Number 7 is another of the faster pieces but this one is joyful from the outset. It was written in August, 1935; perhaps the composer was enjoying a summer holiday in the country or at the coast – but this is speculation. The music runs up and down the keyboard in a friendly chase. Even the middle section, steady and perhaps somewhat cautious if a depiction of a character was intended, lasts only a short time before the carefree melody of the opening returns. This nocturne has no title; it’s up to the listener to make their own conjectures.

The final nocturne, Number 8, was written as a coda to the collection. It’s another lyrical melody, but concise; a final moment of gentle beauty after the antics of the previous piece. Number 8 brings the cycle full circle, using the ending of the first nocturne to draw the piece, and the collection, to a close. Having listened to these pieces countless times, I feel I’ve gained a glimpse into the composer’s life. But only a glimpse and, after all, that’s what these nocturnes are; sounds of the evening, auditory shapes in the twilight. I like that about them; the titles of some give us ideas but, for the rest, we can make our own suppositions. I haven’t yet come close to learning all eight, but I feel much better acquainted with them, and that’s a good start.

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

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Fauré, Poulenc, Messiaen: Preludes & Nocturnes – Tal Walker, piano

A keen advocate and performer of French piano music, the young Israeli-Belgium pianist Tal Walker explores three masters of French pianism in his debut disc of music by Fauré, Poulenc and Messiaen.

The idea of miniatures (Preludes and Nocturnes) written by French composers at the beginning of the 20th century has always interested me. These are improvisatory-like pieces, rather short and therefore combined in a cycle. These pieces give free rein to the composer’s imagination and reveal a sometimes more secretive side of their personality. – Tal Walker, pianist

The disc takes the listener on a fascinating musical journey, charting these three composers’ exploration of the miniature form and revealing connections within each cycle, while also demonstrating their own distinct musical voices and soundworlds, from the perfumed late romanticism of Fauré to Poulenc’s witty neo-classicism to Messiaen’s mystical harmonies and exotic rhythms.

Fauré composed his set of nine Preludes at the end of his life. Historically overlooked by performers, these miniatures are infused with the richness of late 19th-century romanticism yet look forward to modernism in some of their tonalities and harmonies. Highly imaginative and improvisatory in nature, they hark back to the Preludes of Chopin in their variety, fleeting moods, lyricism and whimsical charm. Tal Walker responds to the mercurial nature of these pieces with fluency and nuance, allowing the listener to enjoy and appreciate the multi-layered textures of these tiny gems.

Poulenc’s Nocturnes were composed between 1929 and 1938, and unlike the nocturnes of John Field or Fryderyk Chopin, these pieces are ‘night-pieces’ more in the manner of Bartok’s The Night’s Music. Some are dream-like, almost childlike in their simplicity. Others are nostalgic, some are humorous and ironic (No. 4 in C minor, for example, is a wry waltz), and many evoke the various personalities of the composer’s friends and intimates, either in the form of a miniature musical portrait or a dedication. There are touches of Stravinsky in the harmonic language in some, while others are richly melodic. The many moods and contrasting voices of these delightful pieces are showcased in Walker’s thoughtful, sensitive playing.

The Eight Preludes of Olivier Messiaen were composed 1928-29. They are clearly influenced by the impressionism of Debussy, with unresolved or ambiguous veiled harmonies, and parallel chords which are used for pianistic colour and timbre rather than definite harmonic progression, but Messiaen’s Preludes are also mystical rather than purely impressionistic, and look forward to his great and profoundly spiritual piano works, Visions de l’Amen (for 2 pianos) and Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jesus. In this suite of early pieces it is already clear that Messiaen was carving a distinct compositional voice of his own with his distinctive modes, birdsongs and a profound sense of mysticism and spirituality.

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It is perhaps in these pieces that Tal Walker really shines most of all, revealing his skill, musical intelligence and maturity. Whereas in the pieces by Fauré and Poulenc we find a warm lyricism, to the Messiaen Walker brings a slight stridency and brightness of tone (a very ‘French’ style of piano playing) which highlights the many contrasting colours, timbres and textures of this music.

This is an impressive and rewarding debut disc and a fascinating hommage to French pianism by a young pianist who was taught by, amongst others, Madame Françoise Thinat, who herself studied with or was influenced by Yvonne Loriod (Messiaen’s second wife), Marguerite Long (who premiered Fauré’s Preludes), and Yvonne Lefébure. This musical heritage is evident in Walker’s thoughtful, nuanced playing, as if he has fully absorbed the great tradition from the past and melded it with his own personal artistic vision.

Fauré, Poulenc, Messiaen: Preludes & Nocturnes is available on the Collection Cabinet de curiosités record label and also on Spotify

An earlier version of this review appeared on the InterludeHK website