Search - Charles-Valentin Alkan, Pierre Reach :: Alkan: Grande Sonate, Op. 33; Sonatine, Op. 61

The greatest sonata ever written

Dan | 05/20/2005

(5 out of 5 stars)

"Written over 150 years ago, Alkan's Grande Sonate remained virtually unknown and certainly unheard, until Ronald Smith's 'discovery' of the piece in the early 1950s. Published in 1848, the year of the Paris revolution, Alkan's magnum opus was received by a culturally deserted Paris - only a handful of interested musicians, including Franz Liszt (whose later quotation and mimicry of the sonata's second movement in his own Sonata in B minor was not to be recognised until 100 years later) were to read copies of the piece. No public performance of the piece was given. By this time, Alkan's misanthropic tendencies had already led him to withdraw from the milieu which might otherwise have championed the piece. Unlike Liszt, whose active courtship of public renown largely drove his musical success, Alkan's personality and the very nature of music as played, studied and heard at this point in history, meant that his music was to be necessarily confined to obscurity. Such, of course, has been the case with many composers whose work has latterly been brought to public attention. However, it is startling that a work of such invention, ambition and accomplishment should fall within this category.

Alkan's aim, as established in his preface to the piece, was to convey through four movements of music the psychological state of man at four different stages of life. Not merely programmatic - the spiritual, emotional and mental states of man were to be expressed directly, transparently, through the music. Signposts of a programmatic, more noumenal, nature appear (palpitations, the chiming of a clock, the creep of a footstep, a family at prayer), but are secondary, brilliantly interspersed within the fabric of the musical text. Subverting the classical conventions of the sonata form, Alkan placed a scherzo as the first movement, a movement structured as a typical opening movement to a sonata as the second, an andante third movement, and a lento for the final movement, thus showing, through the progressively slower tempos of the movements, the gradual winding-down of life's clock.

In the first movement a frenetic upwards cascade of notes announces the scherzo, interlocking the 3/4 time signature with an accented 2/4 beat, to create a nervously energetic subject that careers onwards, at once impetuous and unsure. The second subject is announced by a sudden halt. The young man is reduced to a standstill, with palpitations slowly decreasing in frequency, the slowing down of his heartbeat. A haunting melody begins, timidly, alternating between major and minor as if to suggest ambivalence, uncertainty. This melodic line is then joined by a second line, following the first harmonically, to suggest a second person joining the first. Both lines reach a ravishing, if subdued climax, before a gradual diminuendo. To suggest that Alkan here intends to convey 'love at first sight' can only be one interpretation, but it is certainly not crude nor inappropriate. A second interpretation might see the protagonist growing, steadily into maturity. This second view might be strengthened by the music's subsequent return to its opening subject - all energy, bold and impetuous once more - as the child, who recognises his own maturity returns (albeit temporarily) safely back to childishness. The movement concludes with a forceful reiteration of the second subject, marked 'triumphantly' by Alkan, suggesting the consummation of first love, or the final achievement of adulthood.

The second movement is unique and groundbreaking. A paraphrase of Goethe's Faust, the movement can stand alone as an equally important artistic creation as Goethe's romantic retelling of the myth. For a 14-minute long piece of piano music to convey a cosmic contest between God and Satan, played out through the mind of man, is ambitious. For it to be achieved is no less than genius. The opening sees Faust's split, dichotomous soul (represented in a high register, always seeking upwards, aspirant and searching) contrasted against base, deep repetitions of a darker, more sinister refrain (represented in the very lower octaves, and always moving downwards). These two contrasting themes play out against each other over an anxious and unsettled tremolo, before a series of arpeggios announce the entrance of satan. Brash, inescapable, satan's theme arrives in a rough series of B major chords before stepping away, as if into the shadows. This retreat allows the entrance of Margarita's/Gretchen's theme. Shy and simple, this moment marks a distinct contrast to what has preceded it. Seemingly encouraged by satan in a series of urging pushes, Faust steps in to meet his future beloved with a theme of unabashedly confident swagger. Tempered by Margarita, Faust's theme subsides into a recurrence of the duet effect as seen in mvt. 1, with Faust and Margarita in loving unison. This peace is not to last however, as satan sweeps in to the scene. A grumbling, furious rattling of chains deep in the piano leads to a vast wall of sound being created in a disruptive F minor. Here we find a Miltonic satan, his vast wings spreading widely as he rises from the floor of hell. Faust is now pitted against satan, with his theme pleading against the latter's for release - the music marks this moment with 'begging... dechirant (tearing)'. After a section of relative quiet, this contest is taken to the fore in what must stand as one of the most difficult pieces of piano-writing ever written. Satan's theme and Faust's theme interlock, not only musically but physically - as the left hand and right hand of the performer are forced to cross over each other in a run of acrobatic octave passages - the metaphysical made physical. Coming to a rough conclusion the music once again subsides, without either theme victorious, as a fugue begins. This introduction of order and structure (the fugue being perhaps the most perfect musical representation of mathematical order) represents the introduction of a divine architect. Angels begin to sing, first solitarily, then with a second voice, a third and a fourth, before a choir raises a vast cathedral of sound. Huge, glorious chords tumble upwards and downwards in perfect sympathy, before steadily a crescendo in the form of an amassed series of chords rises higher and higher before introducing 'le seigneur' - God.

Faust is then once again reunited with Margarite, thematically, but with the main subject of the fugue supporting in the bass clef: man and woman united in love and supported, redeemed, by God.

The third movement takes as its title 'un heureux menage' - a happy household. This was, at the age of 35, something which Alkan was never to experience. His failed relationship with the wife of a neglectful husband which resulted in the birth of his illegitimate son, was never to provide him with the serene, idyllic life represented in this movement. Almost pastoral in its evocation, Alkan's mastery of melodic line is again put to use as he conveys a male voice and a female voice in dialogue with one another. A trio section comes in D major, the same key as the opening of the first movement - childhood - as Alkan introduces the children. Whether they be physically chattering, playing, or running around, the psychology displayed is one of innocence. With the children leaving the scene, the man and woman are left alone. Thus begins a romantic, extremely moving, duet that seems to conjure nostalgic pain and joy simultaneously, as one voice sings to be followed, canonically, by the other - the man speaks and is then reiterated, agreed-with by the woman, before the woman makes another, follow-on remark which is similarly repeated. The clock strikes ten. Slowly, the family tread upstairs. The father leads the family in prayer, beginning firstly on his own. The mother joins him, and then the children, softly, join in. The movement comes to a tender, peaceful end.

The final movement comes with a quotation from Shelley's 'Prometheus Unbound', suggesting the imprisoned nature of man at this juncture - trapped within a dying shell. The mood here is immediately established as one of remorse and despondency. Sparse moments of happiness, nostalgic reflection, are repeatedly quashed by the defining tone of defeat. The final section of the movement is prophetic: almost imperceptibly, a repeated note begins in the bass. Slowly, with continued ostinato, the note rises higher and higher up the piano, always slowly, trudgingly as if ascending a staircase. Upwards and upwards, louder and louder, but always steady in its pace, the repeated note arrives at a shattering, unresolved climax. Tragically, underneath, almost silently, a minor chord plays twice, marking a final heartbeat.



Pierre Reach's performance of this piece brings alive all of the poetic genius inherent to the music. Others have performed and recorded the piece, notably Marc-Andre Hamelin, whose crass and vulgar rendition at breakneck speed leaves no space for consideration of the intricate, complex motifs and themes which are skilfully written into the piece. I would recommend Reach's recording of the piece to anyone and everyone with a musical bone in their body. This is music, and a recording, which deserves to be heard.



The sonatine is an interesting example of Alkan's mastery of the classical form. Far less interesting and original than the Sonate, however. This cd should be bought for the Sonate alone. The Sonatine is simply a bonus."

Holds its own...

panicnow | 03/09/2006

(4 out of 5 stars)

"There has to be a middle ground on Quasi Faust (the second movement of the Grande Sonate). I'd really like to see someone come out with about a 12:20 playing that's not too blazing fast like Hamelin's is, mixes in a lot of substance and musical ideas as this one does, but yet still keeps moving forward at a captivating pace. Reach's playing of Quasi Faust falls short in the last regard. You might find it interesting that Hamelin plays the movement in 11:43 and Reach plays it in 14:58 (!). Reach does succeed in putting in a lot of nice musical touches (many by playing the dynamics almost the opposite that Hamelin does in places), but honestly, I think he creeps and slogs through a lot of parts that I'd prefer to have much more forward charge. At a number of points I couldn't help thinking "you can play the next note already..." Moreover, of course we can't know how Alkan played but I don't think he would have played an "Assez vite" movement like this (it sounds like "Andante moderato" in places). That's just my theorizing though.



The rest of the Grande Sonate is pretty good, nothing to complain about, admittedly nothing to thrust it above other versions I've heard, but nicely done. In my opinion the third movement is quietly the best in the sonata (although Quasi-Faust is the most spectacular) and I actually prefer how Hamelin does it as of now, but Reach's version is still very good.



The Sonatine is also well done here. This will probably be the version of it I listen to most in the future because even though Reach's finale suffers from the same sluggish playing encountered in Quasi-Faust, he does uncover a lot more of the musical genius of the piece than Hamelin does.



Since there's been no really satisfying recording of Quasi-Faust yet done (in my opinion), I'd purchase both this CD and Hamelin's playing of it for two very, very contrasting takes. It is a momentous and wonderful piece, one of the greatest and most memorable of the entire Romantic era, and worth getting two CDs for. Good playings of the rest of the Grande Sonate (the third movement will grow on you) and the Sonatine on both CDs seal the deal."