Hail to the Old Romantics

Current mood: Musical
Current music: Moody

On this day in history:

Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet was born in 1842...
and Gabriel Urbain Fauré was born in 1845.

Astrology has this to say about May 12:

"Jupiter, the ruling planet for this day, gives the person born on this day a vast wellspring of wisdom that they use in an expansive nature."

~ Perry from Birthscopes.com

Well, perhaps so. It totally and utterly fails to mention creative genius, however, which both of these renowned Romantic composers had in abundance.

Apart from sharing a birthday, both of these musical gentlemen from la belle France were, at some point in their lives, instructors of Composition at the Conservatoire de Paris - in fact, Fauré actually succeeded Massenet in the post - thus influencing a whole generation of important French composers, notably Maurice Ravel and Nadia Boulanger. Massenet and Fauré were also early members of Société Nationale de Musique, which was founded by Camille Saint-Saëns and Romain Bussine in 1871, to promote French music and to give young composers the chance to publicly perform their music. Sounded like a good idea to me.

Jules Massenet (12 May 1842 - 13 August 1912) was primarily known for writing operas, such as 'Manon' (1884), 'Le Cid' (1885), 'Werther' (1892), and 'Thaïs' (1894), which were popular in his time. He also wrote numerous orchestral works, songs, and oratorios, with a few ballets to top it off. 'Méditation', the pensive violin piece from 'Thaïs', is probably his most famous piece - I imagine that all violinists everywhere have had to learn it at some point. Personally, I also like 'Élégie' (a solo piano piece) and 'Aragonaise' (from 'Le Cid', but often adapted for piano). The former is introspective, and brings to mind raindrops tapping against a window-pane during an autumn shower; the latter is fast, bright, and dance-like, with a touch of grandness.

I must admit that Gabriel Fauré (12 May 1845 – 4 November 1924) is one of my favourite composers. I've performed his 'Cantique de Jean Racine' and 'Requiem in D Minor' with my choir back in London, and I reckon these were some of the most beautiful pieces I ever got to sing (though not, perhaps, as much fun as performing Carl Orff's 'Carmina Burana' with full orchestra - but that's another story). They have such a warm and mellow sound, and such subtly shifting harmonies, that one can only do them justice by performing them in a church. Or, as we once tried during a rehearsal, in a stairwell. Anywhere with a good echo, really - if you could fit a hundred singers into a large tiled bathroom, that would probably work too.

The 'Requiem' is a wonderful contrast of darkness and light. OK, I realise I'm talking about music as opposed to paint on canvas, but if you've heard it before you'll see how valid my description is. The opening, 'Requiem Aeternam', is dark and moody - after all, we are talking about death here, so throw in some good bass notes. However, in the final movement ('In Paradisum'), you can almost picture the pearly gates of Heaven opening in radiant sunlight as you listen to choirs of angels. Well, choirs of sopranos, anyway. My favourite section is the 'Lux Aeterna' within the 'Agnus Dei' movement - it's strange, it's inspiring, and I've never heard harmonies like it anywhere else. I could probably go into greater detail and ramble on about chromaticism and whatnot, but it's best if I just stated the way I think it sounds: Like water turning into light.

Someone had better play the 'Lux Aeterna' at my funeral.

Moving on to Fauré's other works - he wrote a couple of operas, and a huge quantity of pieces for orchestra, chamber ensembles, and piano (he himself was a pianist and organist). 'Sicilienne' (for cello and piano) and 'Pavane' (for orchestra) are some of his most popular compositions today, and even if you don't recognise their names, you'll probably know 'em when you hear 'em.

Anyway, I have waxed lyrical on the original French Romantics, so I shall now go away and listen to some of the music I've been raving about. I hope you'll do the same...

Incidentally, yesterday was the birthday of Salvador Dalí (11 May 1904 – 23 January 1989). But you already knew that, didn't you?