Philippe Gaubert was among the most prominent French musicians of the period between the two world wars. After a distinguished career as flutist with the Paris Opéra, he was appointed in 1919, at the age of forty, to three positions that placed him in the highest echelons of French musical life: professor of flute at the Paris Conservatory, principal conductor of the Paris Opéra, and principal conductor of the Société des Concerts. As a composer, Gaubert was not an innovator, but he assimilated many of the innovations of Franck, Ravel and Debussy. The Romance exhibits his prime compositional virtue: an effortlessly eloquent lyricism.

   Paul Hindemith wrote counterpoint as effortlessly as Gaubert wrote melodies. If one senses national characteristics in play here one is probably right: the intuitive, amiable Frenchman stands in contrast to the erudite contrapuntist. But in our Canonic Sonatine Hindemith wears his erudition lightly. As one might expect in a work for two flutes, the prevailing mood is playful and capricious, but, thanks to the strict counterpoint, never frivolous – the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle fall together seamlessly.

   The web page of Yinam Leef, a native of Jerusalem, describes him as having "grown up in a cultural melting pot, where East meets West, old and new coexist, and local and universal aesthetics are apparent at a change of a glance." The page goes on to list an array of commissions and honors testifying to his high standing among Israeli composers. Of Yizkor, he writes that it "was com-posed in December 1995, following the murder of Yitzhak Rabin, and is dedicated to his memory. The piece began, as if writing itself, after the disastrous murder. The paralyzing shock, the feeling of helplessness and the initial wave of emotions started to change into a kind of sustained sadness that refused to disappear. Slowly, the preoccupation with the melodic line, through the voice of the single instrument, so exposed and vulnerable, turned into a desire to attempt and articulate the essence of pain."

   The Sonata by Carl Reinecke appears on this program in response to an inquiry from the administration of the New England Conservatory: Could I perhaps include something relevant to the 100th anniversary of Jordan Hall? Laura Smolowitz’ research in the NEC Archives revealed that the Reinecke Sonata was performed by BSO first flutist André Maquarre on a Longy Club "Concert of Chamber Music for Wind Instruments" on December 16, 1903. This seemed the perfect choice for the centennial season: the Reinecke is the best-known flute work of the previous half century, and it was the first piece for flute and piano ever heard in our beloved Jordan Hall.

   Gunther Schuller, long one of the most influential musicians in the Americas, continues his protean contributions as composer, writer, and educator well into his seventh decade. I learned of his recent Fantasia Impromptu when Mark Kroll invited me to record it for inclusion on a CD of recent harpsichord music; it also happened to fit neatly into this recital program. Fantasia Impromptu implies music of a free, improvisatory character, and indeed the piece opens with the unfolding of a languid, exploratory dialogue between flute and harpsichord. Increasingly decisive and dramatic initiatives intervene, and the two instruments finally break into a brilliant, scampering scherzando episode. Elements of the opening dialogue return, only to be finally and decisively banished by a recapitulation of the scherzando – incidentally giving a satisfyingly clear shape to the whole.

   Jean-Marie Leclair, founder of the French violin school, designed nine of his many violin sonatas to be playable also on the flute. In the preface to the fourth book he encourages the performers toward a pure and simple style, specifying that the improvised ornamentation that so often "disfigures" slow move-ments be avoided, and denouncing changes of tempo within a movement. From a distance of 250 years it may come as a surprise that Leclair was enough of an innovator that a certain contemporary commentator described his music as "a kind of algebra capable of rebuffing the most courageous musicians."

- Fenwick Smith