Nuances Françaises, 20th Century French Flute Sonatas

Description

Under the label of “French music” one should not count exclusively music written by French composers, but also the music falling under the influence of France, of its culture, of its idiosyncrasies. And since one of the traits of “Frenchness” in music – particularly in the early twentieth century – was exoticism, a paradoxical situation may arise: works which clearly express a foreign musical culture may turn out to be perfect embodiments of musical “Frenchness”.
This Da Vinci Classic album is in fact compiled with two Sonatas by French composers, and one authored by a Brazilian musician of Italian origins; nonetheless – as will be perhaps more evident upon listening to it than by reading these programme notes – there is a remarkable consistency in stylistic terms.
On the one hand, in fact, Brazil was one of the many foreign sources of inspiration for “French” music: one has simply to think of Darius Milhaud and of his explorations of the Brazilian musical world to be persuaded that Brazilian music can be very “French”, and that French music can sound very “Brazilian”.
On the other hand, another paradoxical but undeniable trait of French music is its eclecticism, i.e. its capability to encompass not only diverse national styles, but also different epochs which are jointly evoked and subsumed by musicians of the modern era. And, among Brazilian musicians, Francisco Mignone was particularly known precisely for his own eclectic style; indeed, it has been observed that the only red thread in his varied and original output is precisely… the lack of a red thread, of a signature style. Therefore, Mignone’s music harmonizes particularly well with the omnivorous French culture and with its capability to digest and represent a multifaceted musical experience.
Within this perspective, a special focus on the flute (in duo with the piano) seems to be particularly poignant. The flute is one of the most widespread musical instruments; in its numerous variants, it is present in virtually all musical cultures of all times. On the one hand, therefore, it is especially well suited for rendering a large palette of styles, genres, evocations; on the other, it voices with notable efficacy two sides of the French musical culture, i.e. melancholy and irony. The flute’s singing tone, its capability of suggesting the most tender nuances of the human voice and of elevating its melodious expressiveness to the heights of lyricism qualify it as a perfect instrument for the nostalgic soul of France. By way of contrast, the piquant, at times caustic and sardonic vein of French culture and music are wonderfully expressed by the brilliant, sparkling mood which is also quintessential to the flute.
Indeed, these two sides of the French soul are also idiosyncratically represented by at least one of the composers whose works are offered here. Francis Poulenc in fact exemplified beautifully this seeming contradiction, both in his own personal life and in his music.
James Galway, one of the best-known flutists ever, once said that Poulenc is “a master of the mood swing”, and this definition is especially fitting. There is in Poulenc’s music an irreverent, at times almost buffoonish strain; and it perfectly coexists with a contemplative, mystical, intimate, and spiritual soul. Indeed, Poulenc himself said about his own personality and character: “I’m a melancholy person who loves to laugh like all melancholy persons”. And the Flute Sonata is in turn a complete and perfect expression of this fascinating blend.
Its elegiac, melancholic component may be partly due to the fact that this Sonata’s composition coincided with that of Les Dialogues des Carmelites. This magnificent opera was doubtlessly one of Poulenc’s chief achievements, and it contributed to earning its composer the immortal fame he deserved. For most of his life, Poulenc had been seen as “untimely”, if not outright passé. When Western music was entirely in the hands of the avantgardes, which seemed to pride themselves on writing music which no listener could really understand, let alone enjoy, Poulenc firmly stood for “communicative” music. Far from being trivial – indeed, his music is extremely refined and well-crafted, deeply considered and beautifully polished – his style is nonetheless “accessible”, inclusive. It does not hide itself in the ivory towers of elitism, but welcomes listeners of all kinds.
The Flute Sonata is justly one of Poulenc’s best-known works, and it has been argued that it is probably the most played work for flute and piano. Written in the last years of his life, it belongs in a series of Sonatas for wind instruments and piano by which Poulenc had planned to cap his catalogue of chamber music works. He had always had a particular interest in wind instruments, declaring that he was fascinated by them much more than by the strings (particularly the bowed string instruments). He had said that “nothing could be further from human breath than the stroke of a bow”, and therefore was especially drawn to the winds. He had decided to write four Sonatas, each for one of the main instruments of woodwind family – flute, clarinet, oboe, and bassoon – but death prevented him from completing this project, and only the first three came to light. The genesis of the Flute Sonata was long and somewhat tormented, also due to the concomitant creation of Les Dialogues des Carmelites. Already in 1952 he had written to a friend that the plan for his Flute Sonata had “suddenly taken shape at the Austerlitz Station”. In 1953 and 1955 he wrote to his publisher, demonstrating that the Flute Sonata was always in his mind, but also that he had no time for achieving and finishing it. The prompting for its completion came through a commission from the Library of Congress and the Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge Foundation. Named after a famed American patroness of the arts, the Foundation wished to commemorate its founder’s death with a work by Poulenc; having been given the option of writing a chamber music piece, Poulenc saw in this possibility the occasion for finishing the Sonata that he had been planning for years. He wrote to Jean-Pierre Rampal announcing that the flute and piano sonata the flutist had long wished Poulenc to write was now ready for taking off. Rampal and Poulenc premiered unofficially the work in 1957, and the official performances launched the piece to immediate and overwhelming success.
The Sonata is too well known to need introductions; suffice it to say that its first movement takes inspiration from the traditional Sonata form, but revisiting and reinterpreting it creatively. It blends the flute’s lyric penchant with its more brilliant traits, leaving however the wittiest features for the third movement and the most reflective and contemplative tones for the second. In its brevity, this magnificent Sonata – which has also been successfully transcribed for flute and orchestra – represents one of the most perfect interpretations of the flute and piano duo in music history, and its legendary and lasting success is doubtlessly fully deserved.
Much less known, but deserving greater appreciation, is the work of Francisco Mignone. His family name openly declares his Italian origins. Indeed, his father Alferio was a very good flutist who left Liguria, a region by the sea in Northern Italy, to seek fortune in Brazil. His son Francisco revealed his precocious talent early, and by his thirteenth birthday he was already conducting an orchestra and composing. At that time, Francisco employed the pen name of Chico Bororó, and he excelled in the national style of Brazil, the choro. At 19, in 1916, Francisco completed his formal education at the Conservatory of Sāo Paulo, graduating in composition, piano, and flute. His accomplishment in these three subjects is already sufficient evidence that his Flute Sonata is written by an artist who was both versatile and experienced as a flutist, a pianist, and a composer. He wrote extensively for the flute, which was not only his father’s favourite instrument, but also a fundamental element of the choro.
Mignone’s compositional style is, as has been said earlier, rather a mixture of styles; furthermore, he changed drastically his compositional principles at several points in his life, while at the same time maintaining an overall consistency due to the magnetic force of his own personality. His friend, fellow student, and also mentor De Andrade acknowledged Mignone’s multifaceted talent and his ability to support this variety.
His Flute Sonata was written in 1962, and dedicated to Alfredo Montanaro, “a great friend of my deceased father”. It is Mignone’s masterpiece for the flute; besides, it is probably the most important Brazilian Sonata for this ensemble, and a paradigmatic example of its composer’s skill in handling both the specificities of this duo and the complex compositional language he adopted. This work, full of Brazilian suggestions, would later be reworked as a Sonata for violin and piano (the “third” of his catalogue, although he had written other works which were not officially numbered).
This album is completed by a work by Gabriel Pierné, born in Metz, Lorraine, from a family of musicians. Having shown signs of evident musical talent since his childhood, he studied in Paris with Marmontel, Massenet, and César Franck (whom he succeeded as the organist at Sainte-Clotilde). A recipient of the Prix de Rome, Pierné obtained fame and success already as a young man, and he was appreciated particularly as a conductor. He led the prestigious orchestra of the Concerts Colonne, where he fostered and supported both the traditional repertoire and the innovative works of the avantgardes. His oeuvre includes operas, ballets, and oratorios, as well as shorter pieces for chamber ensembles. His Flute Sonata, recorded here, is a well-balanced and varied work, characterized by many musical ideas, cohesively combined into an organic whole.
Together, these works represent a fascinating experience of what “Frenchness” has to say in the field of flute music, and how this instrument is made capable of voicing the quintessential “French” inspiration.
Chiara Bertoglio © 2025