This Friday and Sunday (March 28 and 30), Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) in “lyrical daydreams,” a program of music with poetic roots (most of them French), including two major song cycles.
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Léon Bask’s original set for L’après-midi d’un faune |
The concerts open and close with works that have the word “prelude” in their titles but not much in common otherwise: Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune ("Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun") by Claude Debussy (1862–1918) and Les Préludes by Franz Liszt (1811–1886). Debussy’s is the curtain raiser, so let’s start there, with a somewhat revised version of notes I originally wrote over a decade ago.
First performed in 1894, Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune was inspired by an elliptically erotic 1876 poem by Stephane Mallarmé, whom Debussy greatly admired. "The poem's languorous sensuality is subtly shaded," wrote Boston Symphony music librarian Marshall Burlingame for Leonard Slatkin’s 1982 recording with the SLSO, "as the faun's conscious observation of two nymphs in the sunlight drifts into erotic fantasy." Mallarmé apparently agreed. "I have just come out of the concert deeply moved," he wrote to the composer. "I press your hand admiringly, Debussy."
In Debussy's music, the faun is personified by the flute. Indeed, the opening flute solo is probably one of the best-known moments in the classical repertoire. It's haunting and dreamy, and it expertly conjures up the voluptuous, summery world of the poem. Former SLSO Principal Flute Mark Sparks called the work “revolutionary," noting that Debussy “owns the idea of what happens harmonically: ambiguity, consciously taking the traditional Germanic sense, Wagner especially, and throwing it out the window."
On stage, the faun would be personified by the famous dancer and choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky who, in 1912, turned Debussy’s work into a ballet for the Ballets Russes. Nijinsky cast himself as the faun in the piece, now titled simply L’après-midi d’un faune, and raised some eyebrows with his sexually suggestive performance.
A year later he would raise more than eyebrows with the Ballets Russes premiere of Stravinsky’s Les Sacre du Printemps the following year. But that’s another story.
Up next the 1939 song cycle Les Illuminations, Op. 18, by Benjamin Britten (1913–1976). Begun in Suffolk but completed during a brief period of self-imposed exile in the USA, Les Illuminations consists of ten brief settings (the longest runs around four minutes) of wildly imaginative poems by the eccentric French writer Arthur Rimbaud, a remarkable character who lived fast, died young (age 37), and produced his entire literary output before the age of 20. Possibly written under the mind-altering influences of absinthe and hashish, the poems present a succession of surrealistic pictures, culminating in a somewhat nightmarish parade.
Like Mallarmé, Rimbaud was part of the Symbolist movement, which maintained that truth should be suggested rather than shown. Rimbaud, in particular, advocated for a “systematic derangement of the senses” which anticipates the psychedelic 1960s by a century.
To pick just one example, here’s the opening sentence of No. 7, “Being Beauteous”: “Devant une neige un Être de Beauté de haute taille. Des sifflements de mort et des cercles de musique sourde font monter, s’élargir et trembler comme un spectre ce corps adoré: des blessures écarlates et noires éclatent dans les chairs superbes.” (“Against snow, a Being of Beauty of heightened size. The hissing of death and circles of muted music make this adored body rise, enlarge and tremble like a specter: wounds of scarlet and black burst in the superb flesh.” Translation by singer Julia Bullock). Other movements tell of chalets of crystal and wood moving on invisible pullies and rails or master jugglers who use “magnetic comedy.”
In program notes for the last SLSO performance of Les Illuminations in 2014, Yvonne Frindle suggested that Rimbaud’s bizarre visions “might seem an unlikely source of interest for a British composer,” especially one who loved British folk songs as much as Britten. But the composer’s fascination with French poetry goes all the way back to his adolescence. His Quatre Chansons Françaises, composed at the age of 14, included a poem by Paul Verlaine, and it’s not particularly surprising that a young gay man growing up in the repressive atmosphere of rural England would have identified with Verlaine and his relationship with Rimbaud (for whom Verlaine abandoned his wife and child). As Neil Powell writes in his 2013 biography of Britten, that relationship “would have acquired a special resonance for him,” given the composer’s own involvement with Karl Hermann “Wulff” Scherchen, his first romantic interest.
Although originally written for soprano (specifically for Britten’s friend Sophie Wyss), Les Illuminations is often performed by a tenor. In fact, Britten's life partner (the great English tenor Peter Pears), made what might be the definitive recording of it with the composer conducting the English Chamber Orchestra. And, in fact, this weekend’s soloist will be Michael Spyres who is that rare vocal bird, a baritenor: a singer who can work comfortably in both the tenor and baritone rangers. Those of you fortunate enough to have seen him in the SLSOs Damnation of Faust in 2023 will no doubt recall the power and authority of his voice.
After intermission, it’s another song cycle that has been embraced by both male and female singers: Lieder eines fahrender Gesellen (usually translated as “Songs of a Wayfarer,” although I think “Songs of a Wanderer” might be better) by Gustav Mahler (1860–1911). Written from the POV of a young man grieving for his lost love, the four songs have texts credited to the composer. It was only after his death that scholars discovered that the first one—"Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht" ("When My Sweetheart is Married")—is actually a setting of the first two stanzas of the folk poem “Wenn mein Schatz” from Das Knaben Wunderhorn (“Youth’s Magic Horn”). Mahler would later set many other poems from that collection to music.
In any case, the biographical context of Lieder eines fahrender Gesellen is well documented. In letters to his friend, the archeologist Friederich Lohr, Mahler confided that the inspiration for the Gesellen songs was the disintegration of his affair with singer Johanna Richter when the composer was the Königligher Musikdirektor (Royal Musical Director) in the small central German town of Kassel. “Like all those he had already succumbed to,” writes Henry-Louis de La Grange, “it was stormy affair, and one which was overshadowed by the fear of scandal which, in a provincial theatre, would have no doubt been detrimental to both.” The songs also reflect the composer’s love of nature and the outdoors, most notably in the second song, “Ging heut’ Morgen übers Feld” (“I went out this morning into the fields”).
Lieder eines fahrender Gesellen is written for “medium voice,” which usually means either a mezzo-soprano or a baritone. It was a signature work for the noted baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, for example, and the recording in the SLSO’s Spotify playlist features the legendary American mezzo Frederica von Stade.
Parts of the vocal line push the high end of the baritone voice, which should make it an excellent match for Spyres. It will be interesting to see what he does with this music. And if some of that music sounds familiar, by the way, it would be because Mahler re-used a few of the work’s themes in both his First and Fourth symphonies. Waste not, want not.
Finally, we have Liszt’s Les Préludes, perhaps the most famous of his thirteen symphonic poems. Originally intended to be the overture for Les quatre elements (“The Four Elements”), a work for male chorus and piano based on poems by Joseph Autran, Les Préludes wound up taking on a life of its own and a different source of poetic inspiration: an ode of the same title from Nouvelles méditations poétiques by Alphonse de Lamartine. As Liszt wrote in a preface to the score: “Notre vie est-elle autre chose qu'une série de Préludes à ce chant inconnu dont la mort entonne la première et solennelle note?” (“What else is our life but a series of preludes to that unknown Hymn, the first and solemn note—of which is intoned by Death?”).
Les Préludes is, in any case, a work that takes us through the mortal storm of love, conflict, and final triumph. Which seems only appropriate for this moment in history.
The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and vocal soloist Michael Spyres in music by Debussy, Britten, Mahler, and Liszt Friday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, March 28 and 30. Performances take place at the Touhill Performing Arts Center. A recording of the Friday evening performance will be broadcast Saturday at 7:30 pm on St. Louis Public Radio and Classic 107.3 and will be available for streaming late the following week at the SLSO web site.