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Charles Koechlin:
Music for Flute
Fenwick Smith, flute
Martin Amlin, piano
Leone Buyse, first flute in Sonata for two flutes
Jayne West, soprano
Fourteen Pieces for flute and piano, Op.157b
Sonata for two flutes, Op. 75
Sonata for piano and flute, Op. 52
L'Album de Lilian, Première série, Op. 139*
Four Pieces for flute and piano from L'Album de Lilian, Deuxième série, Op. 149*
Morceau de lecture pour la flûte for flute and piano, Op. 218*
*Premiere recording
Hyperion CDA66414. Recording engineer:
Joel Gordon
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![[Picture of disc cover]](Images/koechlin.jpg)
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During the 1980s I developed a fascination with the music, writings, and unique career of Charles Koechlin. At the time, much of the music on this CD was unpublished and unperformed, not to mention unrecorded; in the course of my explorations I premiered four works by Koechlin that had waited as long as 65 years for a first hearing. Otfrid Nies of the Archiv Charles Koechlin in Kassel, Koechlin's biographer Robert Orledge, and the composer's son Yves Koechlin kindly answered my queries about the composer and his music, and provided access to his unpublished works.
Yves Koechlin, a professional physicist an amateur clarinetist, has devoted his retirement to the promotion of his father's music. A highlight of this project was my visit with Yves Koechlin in his Paris apartment at 26 rue des boulangers, which had been his father's before him, and which was filled with the composer's furniture and effects, writings and manuscripts. I have a particular affection for Koechlin and his music, and it is gratifying to see his name and his legacy becoming more widely known.
Album Notes
The French flutist Jan Merry, in a letter to Koechlin's widow shortly after the composer's death in 1950, eloquently described the appeal of his writing for the flute: "This restrained emotion, always dignified, always French; without exaggeration, without affectation--how directly it goes to the heart of those who listen!" Of the works included on the present recording, perhaps the Fourteen Pieces, Op. 157b, best exemplify these qualities. They testify also to Koechlin's skill as a miniaturist: each of these brief pieces establishes its character and mood with great economy of means. They were composed originally for unaccompanied flute as Op. 157; Koechlin added the piano part later. A partial first performance was given in 1941 by Jan Merry and the composer. Op. 157b is dedicated to the flutist Paul Dommel and his wife, Amy Dommel-Diéry, a pianist. They were, like Jan Merry, devoted friends of Koechlin and his music.
My first exposure to Koechlin's music came when I was a student of Joseph Mariano at the Eastman School of Music. Mariano frequently read duos with his students, and along with the inevitable Kuhlau duets, Koechlin's Sonata for two flutes was among his favorites. The serenity of the opening and closing pages is enhanced by the liberal use of perfect fourths and fifths--a rigorous test of good intonation, and the sinuous intertwining of the two lines invites and rewards close attention to balance, blend, color, and expression. So I am particularly happy to be joined in this recording by my colleague in the Boston Symphony Orchestra and fellow Mariano student, Leone Buyse.
Opus 52 is Koechlin's most extended and ambitious work for the flute. His designation "Sonata for piano and flute" acknowledges the ambitious role of the piano--much of the first movement requires three staves to notate Koechlin's far-reaching chordal progressions. He perhaps felt that his writing taxed the expressive and coloristic resources of the piano, for he briefly contemplated arranging Op. 52 for flute and orchestra. In the first two movements Jan Merry's "restrained emotion" prevails--each rises only briefly to mezzo-forte, while numerous performance indications encourage both players to a maximum of expressive variety within a prevailingly soft dynamic range. The improvisatory yet shapely melodic line, and the luminous harmonies with which the piano supports them, combine in a voice distinctively Koechlin's own. In the Finale, restraint yields to an exuberant contrapuntal romp growing out of the interval of a falling fourth. After an interlude recalling the mood of the first movements, the triplet motion steals back in, building this time to a brilliant conclusion. Koechlin dedicated the Sonata to the pianist Jeanne Herscher-Clément, who premiered the piece with Adolphe Hennebains, professor at the Paris Conservatory. It is recorded here for the first time, as are Opp. 139, 149, and 218.
The breadth of Koechlin's musical culture was all-encompassing: his sources range from Gregorian chant to the New Viennese School. Like Stravinsky, he wrote in various and apparently incompatible styles, but always made them identifiably his own. The sources of his extra-musical inspiration were similarly varied: they ranged from classical mythology to Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book and the 'insolent beauty" of the great female stars of the early sound film--in particular the London-born Lilan Harvey (1907-1968). Koechlin's fascination with Miss Harvey resulted in four series of pieces written in her honor: the Seven Songs for Gladys Op. 151, no less than 89 cameos for solo piano, and the two Albums de Lilian Opp. 139 and 149. Lilian, unfortunately, was quite uninterested in Koechlin's efforts. His letters to her largely went unanswered, and even after a visit from the composer's wife, Suzanne, Lilian did not so much as acknowledge receipt of the music she had inspired.
The first and last of the nine vignettes in Op. 139 are songs after the manner of a popular chanson. In the first, Keep that Schoolgirl Complexion, Koechlin speculates on Lilian's beauty secret: at first blush the song looks to be a Palmolive testimonial; but it also celebrates her passport to stardom--the flawless beauty of her face.
Keep that Schoolgirl Complexion
Gardez ce teint de jeune fille, gardez ce teint.
Le savon Palmolive vous le conservera.
Le savon Palmolive est à base d'huile de palme et d'huile d'olive.
On pourrait s'en servir pour la salade,
Mais il vaut mieux s'en servir pour la peau, pour la peau des dames.
Il leur donne un velouté merveilleux, et tel que le peut désirer le plus exigeant amoureux.
Gardez ce teint de jeune fille.
Keep that schoolgirl complexion.
Palmolive soap will preserve it.
Palmolive soap is made from palm oil and olive oil.
One could use it on salad,
But it is better to use it on the skin--on ladies' skin.
It gives a marvelous velvetiness, such as is desired by the most demanding of lovers.
Keep that schoolgirl complexion.
The second and third movements are Satie-esque miniatures for solo piano inspired by particular scenes from Miss Harvey's films. The Fugue sans protocole demonstrates Koechlin's fluent counterpoint with easy informality; the Valse de la réconciliation passes its melodic lines through unexpected keys to lovely effect. In Les yeux clairs (Bright Eyes), serene harmonies in the piano are spanned by broadly arching lines in the flute to evoke the remote beauty of a film idol's gaze. Joie de plein air (Joy of the Outdoors) brings a welcome gust of fresh air through what has been a prevailingly sultry atmosphere. Lilian Harvey was an accomplished athlete, and this headlong toccata for solo piano gives vivid expression to her joy in the out-of-doors. Koechlin's title Skating-Smiling has an exotic ring in the French ear that it conspicuously lacks in English--perhaps it is better rendered in English as "Patinant-Souriant." The wordless vocalise leaves us to wonder what happy thoughts the star is thinking as she skates a slow waltz, first answered, then accompanied by the flute. En route vers le bonheur (On the way to Happiness) is the most extended of the nine pieces. The flute sets out, soon joined by the piano, in an energetic excursion in jaunty triplet rhythm. Flute and vocalise intertwine in a more tranquil middle section, until the triplets return, building this time to an exultant climax. The energy dissipates, and we arrive at happiness in a radiant B major. However Pleurs (Tears) intervene: the piano introduces and briefly develops a resigned little tune, only to interrupt with a middle section of surprising violence. The piano's angular, hyperchromatic sequences and the shrieking piccolo seem to have paid an unexpected visit from the world of Pierrot Lunaire. The outburst passes as suddenly as it came. The somber mood returns, until a soft glissando in the piano returns us magically to B major, and Tout va bien (All is Well). In this last song Koechlin reveals, with gentle irony, that the serene world we have glimpsed is illusory. It exists only in our imagination--yet because it has been caught on film, it is also permanent.
Tout va bien
Tout va bien, puisque chagrin d'amour ne dure qu'un moment, ô Martini!
Tout va bien, puisque le plaisir d'amour dure toute la vie, ô chimérique
Tout va bien, puisque la Star est heureuse
Et que toujours l'aventure se termine au mieux.
Ah! dans ce monde irréel, ton bonheur en image nous illumine,
Quand la valse te ravit au ciel des eternelles amours.
Tout va bien, puisque dans tes yeux bleus, de nouveau le clair soleil a lui.
Ah! Tout va bien, Lilian, puisque toujours va durer ta joie d'aimer.
All is well, because love's sorrow lasts but a moment, O Martini!
All is well, because love's joy lasts a lifetime, O fantastical Princess!
All is well, because the Star is happy
And because the adventure always has a happy ending.
Ah! In this illusory world, the image of your happiness illuminates us
When the waltz sweeps you into the heaven of eternal love.
All is well, because in your blue eyes the bright sun once again has shone.
Ah! All is well, Lilian, because the joy of your love will last forever.
Texts by Charles Koechlin
Translations by Judith Kellock
The peculiar array of instruments called for in the second Album de Lilian doubtless contributed to the 51-year delay before its first complete performance, on a recital I presented in Boston in 1986. The Album consists of intermingled movements for piano solo, for flute and piano, and for the otherworldly combination of ondes martenot and harpsichord. Eschig's catalogue of Koechlin's works, overseen by someone more practical-minded--if less imaginative--than Koechlin, groups the pieces for flute and piano, recorded here, and for piano solo, in independent suites. Perhaps if interest in Koechlin's music continues to increase, the remainder of Op. 149 will not have to wait another 51 years for its first recording.
The Sérénade à l'étoile errante (Serenade for the Wandering [Film] Star) appears at first to be a solo piano piece, but the flute soon steals in, imperceptibly at first, then joins the piano in a leisurely exploration of Koechlin's unique sound-world. Scenes in several of her movies display Lilian Harvey's prowess as a swimmer. If the length of the lines Koechlin writes for the flute in Swimming are any indication, she must have had remarkable breath control. Like Pleurs in the first Album, the angular but lucid music depicting Les jeux du clown (The Clown's Tricks) owes more to Schoenberg than anyone French. The flute offers a few mild interjections which ultimately fail to divert the clown from his mischief. The last of the four pieces, Le voyage chimerique, (The Dream Voyage), sketches an imaginary excursion to Hollywood. (As Lilian made at least three films in the United States in the early 1930's the dream may well have been Koechlin's own.) The score is dotted with indications of our progress: starting in "the mists of sleep" a train emerges form obscurity, flies over rooftops, and plunges into the ocean (the Atlantic, presumably) which it traverses underwater. The next indication in the rather condensed itinerary is that we are crossing Arizona; excitement mounts and the tempo presses ahead as we approach California. The arrival at Hollywood is marked by a grandiose paraphrase of the Star-Spangled Banner which would doubtless have Charles Ives sitting up in his grave, saluting. With a sudden deep tolling in the piano the adventure is past, and with a wistful piccolo melody, the dream evaporates into stillness.
In the Morceau de lecture, or sight-reading exercise, Koechlin combines rhythmic freedom with his customary metrical freedom to create a rhapsodic, improvisatory, wide-ranging line for the flute. The piece compresses a remarkable intensity of expression into its brief length before subsiding to a somber but tranquil close.
Koechlin was a complex, fascinating, and independent spirit. While he might, with disarming naiveté, entrust his listeners with his most private fantasies, his knowledge of all the arts was comprehensive and sophisticated. His firm belief in his creative imagination led to a large and astonishingly varied output, much of which remains to be performed and evaluated before his place in our musical heritage becomes clear.
--Fenwick Smith
Copyright Hyperion Records Limited, London, 1990
Reproduced by permission
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