Decruck: Concerto for Cello and Orchestra; The Trianons: Suite for Harpsichord (or Piano) and Orchestra; Sonata in C# for Alto Saxophone (or Viola) and Orchestra; The Bells of Vienna: Suite of Waltzes. Jeremy Crosmer, cello; Mahan Esfahani, harpsichord; Mitsuru Kubo, viola; Jackson Symphony Orchestra; Matthew Aubin, conductor. Claves 50-3108
From time to time in past reviews I have remarked about how delightful it is to come across a recording of some music by a composer whom I have never encountered previously and find it to be a rewarding musical experience that makes me glad I took a chance on someone new and different. The excitement of discovering “new” music from a “new” composer and my subsequent eagerness to pass my discovery along to others makes those reviews the ones that are especially exciting to write. Well, grab your garters, Gertie, and hold on to your hat, Harry, because what we have here is a release where I’m willing to bet that you’ll discover just like I did that not only is the composer featured on this new release unfamiliar to you, but so are the conductor, the orchestra, and -- with the possible exception of harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani – so are the soloists. And come to think of it, although the Claves label sounds vaguely familiar to me, if I ever purchased any of their previous releases, it was a long time ago
– i.e., at least a decade – if at all. Truly, this is all fresh, new, unfamiliar, stimulating stuff.
According to Wikipedia, the composer Fernande Decruck (1896-1954), whose maiden name was Breilh, was born in France and began piano lessons at the age of eight. Later, she studied organ and composition at the Paris Conservatory. She traveled to America to give recitals, and in 1928 moved there with her family. Her husband, Maurice Decruck, whom she had married in 1924, played both saxophone and bass with the New York Philharmonic. In 1932, Maurice returned to Paris and started a publishing company that would go on to publish Fernande’s compositions. She returned to France in 1933, but resided in Toulouse, where she began teaching at the Toulouse Conservatory. In 1942 she moved back to Paris and many of her works were premiered between 1943 and 1947. She and her husband divorced in 1950. According to the liner notes, during her time at the Paris Conservatory, she served as an assistant professor of harmony; one of her students went on to become quite famous and in fact went on later in his own career to dedicate a score to her, “To Fernande Decruck, with all the gratitude and fond memories of the author – O. Messiaen.”
The program opens with Decruck’s Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, which is in the typical three movements. Composed in New York in 1932, it is her first known concerto as well as her first large-scale orchestral composition. The opening movement, marked Andantino non troppo, could be mistaken for a lost work in the pastoral mode by an English composer such as Vaughan Williams. Cello soloist Jeremy Crosmer is given no virtuoso passages to wow the listener; rather, he weaves some lovely melodic lines in harmony with the orchestra for a touch over 10 minutes – the longest movement of the concerto. The briefer (6:15) second movement, marked Adagietto, molto tranquillo, maintains the peaceful mood, with Crosmer continuing to provide meaning through warmth of expression rather than speedy playing. Even the faster (5:19) finale, marked Allegro energico, does not devolve into virtuosic display for the sake of display but remains nicely balanced and in keeping with the previous two movements. Between Decruck being virtually unknown and the solo cello part lacking in showstopper passages to appeal to guest cellists, the chances of hearing this lovely work performed in concert are almost certainly nil (unless perhaps you happen to live in the Jackson, MI area). Thank goodness for recordings!
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| Grand Trianon |
Next up is
Les Trianons: Suite for Harpsichord (or Piano) and Orchestra, which dates from 1946, making it the latest of the pieces on this recording. Decruck dedicated it to Marcelle de Lacour, who later became a distinguished professor of harpsichord at the Paris Conservatory. And in case you might be wondering what “Les Trianons” might be, the liner notes inform us that “the suite is named after the Grand Trianon and Petit Trianon, two opulent royal buildings in Versailles which serve as an evocative backdrop to the music.” (Confession time: Prior to reading that explanation, I assumed that between the “Tri” in
Trianons and the fact that the suite had three movements, there must have been three of those Amigos – er, Musketeers.) It’s a bit of a strange piece, straddling Baroque and 20th-Century instruments and styles. We have a harpsichord, at times struggling to be heard over the sound of its accompaniment; on the other hand, we have modern instruments such as saxophone, celesta, and concert toms. Its three brief movements (4:06, 6:41, 6:25) follow a fast-slow-fast pattern. In the opening movement, Esfahani does his best to make his harpsichord compete with the orchestra, but one can’t help but wonder whether a piano would have worked better. The second movement seems much more suited to the harpsichord, with Esfahani given more opportunity to be heard. The use of the saxophone in this movement is especially fascinating. Esfahani’s harpsichord kicks off the finale and is given some sonic space throughout; again, however – and with no disrespect to Mr. Esfahani, a master of his instrument – I can’t help but wonder whether a piano would be better suited here. Overall, it’s an interesting piece, but it would be most interesting to hear the piano version. (In a future Volume 3, perhaps?)
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| Petit Trianon |
Next on the docket is what is said to be Decruck’s most widely known work, her Sonata in C# for Alto Saxophone (or Viola), which dates from 1946. She composed the work in two versions, one for solo instrument (saxophone or viola) and piano, the other for solo instrument and orchestra, which is the version played here. The opening measures from the orchestra have such weight to them that one wonders what the piano version would sound like. As in the Cello Concerto, the solo instrument – in this case the viola of Ms. Kubo – plays primarily lyrically rather than in an intensely virtuosic style. The four movements are relatively brief, especially the two inner movements, the timings being 6:05, 3:34, 3:05, and 5:30 respectively. The orchestral accompaniment is colorful and varied; overall, it’s an engaging composition. The sound of the solo viola tends to blend in well with the orchestra; the alto saxophone might stand out more as a solo instrument. No, I’ve not heard them both, but my guess is that this might well be the more balanced and thus aesthetically pleasing version of the two.
The program closes with the lively The Bells of Vienna: Suite of Waltzes, which dates from 1935 and was performed in concert as well as broadcast in France at the time. It is easy to see why it was popular, as its colorful scoring and lively waltz rhythm make it hard to resist. Despite its initial popularity, the piece was nearly lost to posterity; Aubin had to do some rigorous detective work to reassemble it from parts he pulled together from the Decruck family, the music library at a Portuguese radio station, and some final missing parts that a friend found for him in a conservatory library in France. Aubin’s dedication and diligence was well worth it, for the restored score as performed by these Jackson forces and recorded by the fine folks at Soundmirror is just the sort of music that may get you out of your listening seat and onto your waltzing feet.
The physical package is sturdy, the liner notes are informative and include photographs, and the sound quality is first-rate. This is not just another good recording of music with which you are already familiar, it’s an excellent recording of excellent music that you’ve never heard before but would most likely enjoy if you did – and is thus most enthusiastically recommended.
