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Escher chopin lutoslawski poulenc works for violoncello and piano played by quirine viersen thomas beijer


Foto: Escher chopin lutoslawski poulenc works for violoncello and piano played by quirine viersen thomas beijer
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The Cello Sonatas of Chopin and Poulenc

Michelangelo eloquently stated: ‘The sculpture is already within the block of marble

before I start. All I have to do is chisel away the excess stone.’

Certainly, this must have been intended as a half-joking remark, although Michel-

angelo was not exactly known for his sense of humor. Nevertheless, there is truth

in it. Every artist, composer, and writer knows the peculiar sensation that the work

they’re engaged in presents itself favourably. You grasp onto ‘something,’ you sense

what it should become - or rather, you ‘listen’ and ‘see’ what it wants to become -

and as if guided by the work itself, you shape it with a precision that surprises even

you. Put in the well-known manner: the work writes (or composes, or paints) itself.

And when it finally emerges, you can scarcely remember where you found it, what

you’ve actually done.

It can go this way. But it can also go very differently, and it often does. You sense

roughly what it should - or wants to - become, but there’s a dense mist surrounding

it, you can’t quite get it clear, you keep getting lost, you don’t understand it, your

intuition falters, you don’t know which pieces of marble are excess and which are

not. You try something, but it doesn’t fit. You try something else, and that doesn’t

work either. The worst part is that you can’t quite put your finger on what’s wrong

and why. Something about the tension, yes, but what? And then you can become

half or completely insane from your increasingly desperate attempts to let the work

become itself...

Frédéric Chopin didn’t go insane, but with no other composition does he seem to

have struggled as much as with his cello sonata. And that says something, for com-

posing was never easy for him, if we are to believe his friend George Sand: ‘He

locked himself in his room for days, pacing, crying, breaking his pens in half, chang-

ing a measure a hundred times, writing it down only to cross it out immediately,

and the next day he would start again, with desperate persistence, right from the

beginning.’This portrayal seems somewhat romanticized (by the way, if Chopin locked himself

in his room, it’s doubtful that Sand could have observed it so vividly), but Chopin

himself, in a letter to his sister in 1846, also hinted at his arduous compositional

process, though he phrased it much more modestly, even dryly: ‘I write very little

and cross out a lot. Sometimes I’m satisfied with my cello sonata, then I toss it aside,

only to pick it up later.’

It was only after two years of discarding and picking up that the sonata was complet-

ed. Or well, what does ‘completed’ really mean? Chopin’s ambivalent relationship

with the piece remained evident, as he demonstrated at the premiere he gave at

the Parisian Salle Pleyel, together with the renowned cellist Auguste Franchomme,

to whom the sonata is dedicated. Chopin was once again inundated with self-doubt

and decided to omit the entire first movement – roughly half of the composition’s

size.

However, a two-year gestation process is quite modest when compared to the birth

of Francis Poulenc’s cello sonata, a hundred and one years after Chopin’s work. Pou-

lenc began working on it in 1940; it wasn’t until 1948 that he penned the final note.

The reason for this delay was not so much due to the outbreak of World War II (Pou-

lenc was stationed at an air defense unit in Bordeaux in June 1940, but less than a

month later, France surrendered to the Germans, and he was demobilized) but rath-

er because he felt ill at ease composing for string instruments. His violin and piano

sonata from 1942-43 was met with critical reception, ranging from ‘disappointing’

to ‘mediocre,’ and even Poulenc’s biographer Henri Hell claimed that Poulenc ‘ceas-

es to be Poulenc when he writes for violin’2 – a statement I find rather perplexing.

Critics do often miss the mark, but Poulenc himself wasn’t fond of the work either.

While composing it, he referred to the violin sonata as a ‘monster,’ and years later,

his opinion of his own creation hadn’t softened, as evidenced by his lament: ‘Alas,

not the best Poulenc.’3 (I’d be tempted to shout, ‘Well!’ at him.) The experiences with

the violin sonata undoubtedly influenced Poulenc’s challenging and prolonged cre-

ative process in crafting the cello sonata. That he never wrote anything more for a

string instrument after these two pieces (excluding the string sections in orchestral

music, of course) speaks volumes.

Following a difficult birth, there can be two outcomes: the creator is either delighted

and proud that, despite all struggles, success has been achieved, or they forever

regard their creation with a critical eye.

The critical perspectives of Chopin and Poulenc are now hard to imagine, as their

cello sonatas are cherished and admired by performers and listeners alike. The hes-

itations that accompanied their creations are ultimately imperceptible to us. All the

excess marble has been chiseled away. The pieces are entirely themselves. And mon

dieu, how beautiful they are.

Music for the Mourning Spirit

In contrast to Poulenc’s sonata, Rudolf Escher’s Sonata Concertante is indeed a di-

rect outcome of World War II. ‘The inspiration then proved to be a remedy in a world

of mechanized terror,’ Escher wrote in the preface to his piano suite Arcana, which

was composed during the same period. While that might be the case, anyone think-

ing of escapism is entirely mistaken; in the pitch-black music that Escher composed

during these years - reaching its pinnacle in the orchestral work Musique pour l’es-

prit en deuil (‘Music for the Mourning Spirit’) - that mechanized terror resounds re-

lentlessly. Sometimes it’s difficult to listen to, as the oppression is transmitted onto

the sheet music unfiltered. Yet, all the more gripping is the conclusion of these three

compositions born of war: an unexpectedly dazzling – or rather, ear-blinding – radi-

ance. Courage. Light. Yes: hope.

Witold Lutosławski’s short work Grave is, in a way, also music for the mourning spirit:

he wrote it in 1981 in memory of his friend Stefan Jarocinski. A musical monument,

indeed, and it’s probably no coincidence that the Italian word ‘grave’ (‘solemn,’ ‘seri-

ous’) carries a related meaning in English.

Considering that the musicologist Jarocinski specialized in the music of Claude

Debussy, Grave contains a wink. Those familiar with Debussy’s opera Pelleas et

Mélisande will recognize the first four opening notes.

Thomas Beijer

1 George Sand, Histoire de ma vie (V. Lecou, Paris 1854-55)

2 Henri Hell, Francis Poulenc (Fayard, Paris 1978)

3 Francis Poulenc, Journal des mes mélodies (Salabert, Paris 1993)

Quirine Viersen and Thomas Beijer, eminent personalities in the classical music

realm, unite their musical prowess in their collaborative performances, weaving

a musical tapestry that is nothing short of extraordinary. Each note shines with a

shared passion and unwavering dedication.

Quirine Viersen, inspired by her father, a renowned cellist, was the youngest musi-

cian ever to win the Scheveningen International Music Competition. She has since

gained acclaim for her mesmerizing performances with word-class musicians, en-

sembles and orchestras. Viersen’s musical identity is further enriched by her pro-

found connection to her instrument, the ‘Joseph Guarnerius Filius Andreae’ cello

from 1715, which serves as a conduit for her musical expression.

From an early age, Thomas Beijer, recognized as an exceptional musician, claimed

victory in the Young Pianist Foundation National Piano Competition at the age of

eighteen. In 2022, he was honored with the Nederlandse Muziekprijs. His musi-

cal journey has taken him to numerous stages worldwide, showcasing remarkable

versatility that spans from seventeenth-century compositions to contemporary

works. Beijer’s affinity for the Spanish piano repertoire is noteworthy. Additionally,

he has demonstrated his talent as a composer and boasts an impressive discog-

raphy.

BarcaNova Records, founded in 2015, embodies a unique approach to classical

music, driven by Passion, Perfection, and Perseverance. These values are the bed-

rock of our success, evident in every release.

In crafting exceptional musical art, we integrate Musicians, Producers, Instru-

ments, and Equipment —the four essential elements— to achieve musical excel-

lence. By blending these components seamlessly, BarcaNova Records empowers

artists to create truly distinct music, stemming from their heart and soul.

BarcaNova Records





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Product specificaties:

Oorspronkelijke releasedatum: 11 oktober 2024

EAN: 7434644299255

Drager: CD

Type uitvoering: Standard Edition

Aantal stuks in verpakking: 1 stuk(s)

Speelduur: 83 minuten

Mono of stereo: Stereo

Box set: Nee

Compilatie: Ja

Country: Nederland

Gezongen taal: Nederlands

Import: Nee

Meerdere uitvoerende artiesten: Meerdere artiesten

Muziekgenre: Klassiek

Productie jaar: 2024

Soort verpakking: Jewel Case

Stijlperiode: Klassieke periode

Verpakking breedte: 165 mm

Verpakking hoogte: 20 mm

Verpakking lengte: 185 mm

Verpakkingsgewicht: 115 g

EAN: 7434644299255