(+++) KEYBOARDS À LA FRANCE

Franck: Six pieces d’orgue—Grande Pièce Symphonique; Vierne: Symphony No. 6 for Organ; 24 Pièces en style libre—No. 19 (Berceuse). Christopher Houlihan, organ. Azica. $16.99.

Fauré: Impromptus Nos. 1-6; Improvisation, Op. 84, No. 5; Chopin: Impromptus Nos. 1-3; Étude, Op. 25, No. 2; Fantaisie-Impromptu, Op. 66; Berceuse, Op. 57; Ismaël Margain: Improvisation. Ismaël Margain, piano. Naïve. $16.99.

     The organ will always be strongly associated with the German school of composition, because of the transcendent works of Bach (and, to a lesser but significant extent, those of Liszt). But there is a considerable and impressive French component to the organ repertoire as well, neatly encapsulated by Christopher Houlihan on a new Azica CD devoted to music by César Franck and Louis Vierne. Franck’s Grande Pièce Symphonique is a symphony in all but name, being (in effect) a three-movement work and, at some 26 minutes in length, the largest-scale piece from Six pieces d’orgue, Op. 17. Some sense of the work’s breadth and its virtuosity, as well as its symphonic character, may be gleaned from the fact that Franck dedicated it to the brilliant pianist/composer Charles-Valentin Alkan (who had earlier written a Symphony for Solo Piano). Houlihan’s performance fully invokes the symphonic elements of Franck’s work and is also careful to underline the way in which Franck recalls Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 by reintroducing earlier themes from the work at the start of the final section and then rejecting them. Houlihan’s footwork is as impressive in this conclusion as his keyboard performance: the virtuosity he shows in the pedals complements the keyboard material very well. Franck – who was actually Belgian by birth – brought French organ music a level of expressiveness and dynamism that it had not had before, abetted by the famous organs of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll. It is wholly fitting that Houlihan performs this Franck symphony-in-all-but-name on a French-built organ, albeit a modern one (in New York City). The large scale and intensity of Franck’s work give way on this disc to a lovely little Berceuse by Vierne: simple and pretty, dedicated to Vierne’s daughter Colette, the lullaby becomes a kind of palate cleanser between the large-scale piece by Franck and Vierne’s own Symphony No. 6 for Organ. This is Vierne’s last completed organ symphony, built on a very grand scale indeed, and taken by Houlihan at generally broad tempos that produce a 40-minute immersion in a style that clearly derives from that of Franck while just as clearly partaking of much later rhythmic and harmonic sensibilities: Vierne’s symphony dates to 1930, some 70 years later than Franck’s Grande Pièce Symphonique. Vierne more than matches the emotional intensity for which Franck reaches, and the tying-together of the thematic material in Vierne is even tighter than in Franck: two themes presented in Vierne’s first movement reappear in various guises through all five movements. Houlihan takes the music seriously but not ponderously, his fairly slow tempos notwithstanding: the third-movement Scherzo, for example, has real bounce and a kind of sly wit about it. Although the music on this CD is somewhat rarefied – organ music in general has fanatical devotees amid a sea of indifference – it is played with such élan and enthusiasm that listeners who enjoy the great French organ works will actively hope that Houlihan will record more of them.

     As keyboards go, the piano (essentially a percussion instrument) is heard far more frequently than the organ (essentially a wind instrument), and that is as true in French music as in works from other areas. And it is because of the well-known nature of so much piano music that musicians try so often to find new ways to present pieces – ways that are reflective of the performers’ own thinking and predilections and that, as a result, reach out in an effective way only to audiences predisposed to hear the material in much the same way as the performers do. Thus, French pianist Ismaël Margain, on a new Naïve CD, offers impromptus and other short pieces by Fauré and Chopin – but in an interlocking sequence that is clearly carefully thought out but nevertheless comes across as rather strange. Fauré’s six impromptus and Chopin’s four (including the Fantaisie-Impromptu, Op. 66) are all included here, along with other works by both composers, but Margain alternates the two composers’ works instead of presenting those by one creator and then those by the other. The disc starts with Fauré, then offers Chopin, then more Fauré, then more Chopin, and so on from start to (almost) finish. There is certainly emotional overlap between some of the Fauré pieces and some of those by Chopin; and even though Chopin was not French (despite his fondness for evocative titles such as étude and berceuse), his piano pieces influenced French composers along with many others. Fauré was only four years old when Chopin died, and the Fauré works here date to as late as 1905; the latest one by Chopin is from 1844. It is interesting to hear how much changed and how much did not change in small pieces like these during a time span of six decades. And in that sense, Margain’s sequence is an interesting one that is well worth following. The interest, however, is largely intellectual, while these pieces themselves are anything but that: all of them, by both composers, are intended to convey emotions and to engage listeners through their lyricism and self-contained tone painting (not in the Impressionist sense but in that of presenting small encapsulations of feelings). So there is a disconnect here between the intent of the composers and that of the performer. But there is no denying that Margain plays all the music with considerable sensitivity, a strong sense of flow, a solid understanding of the judicious use of rubato, and clear affection for the material. Just how strongly the pianist “feels” the music is clear from the final track on the disc, an Improvisation by Margain himself that starts with a rhythmic alteration of the theme of Chopin’s Berceuse, Op. 57 (heard a few minutes earlier) and then presents snippets of other works from the CD – all joined into a satisfying whole that neatly encapsulates the program, does not overstay its welcome at its three-and-a-half-minute length, and in its prettiness lies somewhere between an imitation of and a tribute to the rest of the repertoire on the disc. It is hard to fault anything in Margain’s playing, which is limpid, lyrical and nuanced; and certainly his own Improvisation shows clearly just how well he “channels” the feelings and approaches of both Fauré and Chopin. Yet there remains something curiously unsatisfying in this recital, because of the back-and-forth nature of the presentation – which essentially forces listeners to look for strong parallels or strong contrasts between juxtaposed pieces, even when those are not present. There is considerable enjoyment to be had here, but it is more for listeners unfamiliar with the music than for those who already have their own ideas about how these pieces should be grouped, performed and heard.