Second Concert of the 50th Season

Poulenc was a member of the group of French composers known as "Les Six." It consisted of Poulenc, Georges Auric, Louis Durey, Germanie Tailleferre, Arthur Honegger, and Darius Milhaud, who were strongly supported by Eric Satie and Jean Cocteau. They were most active as a group in the twenties, about the same time the art movements of "Fauvism" and "Dadaism" were making news, and there is a strong connection with those movements. There was a desire in both French art and music to return to simple statements, stressing clarity of expression, wit, and gaiety, even at the expense of unity. The music of Les Six, and especially that of Poulenc, combined the color, gaiety and untutored quality of Fauvism with the irreverance, irony, and buffoonery of Dadaism.

Les Six took great pains to eliminate anything from their music that smacked of German influence. They, and Poulenc in particular, judged the Germans as taking the arts much too seriously. If the Germans thought of Art with a capital "A," then Les Six insisted on thinking of it as "after all, only art." Their music was consciously non-serious, a sort of twentieth-century Rococo, drawing inspiration from areas of musical life considered transient up until then: the circus, music hall, jazz.

Critics tend either to like Poulenc, or hate him. The British critic, David Drew, appears to admire Poulenc only for his candor. He says that "When he (Poulenc) has nothing to say, he says it." He goes on to accuse Poulenc of juxtaposing incongruous elements in such a way that they appear ironic, and then hoping this irony will act as a unifying factor. I take the view that Poulenc is revealing those traits of charm, wit, and gaiety we have (rightly or wrongly) come to think of as characteristically French. I do find the Poulenc, like Oscar Wilde, is so fearful that we will think he is taking himself seriously that he follows every profundity with a jeer, and any tenderness with a giggle. His music, therefore, veers wildly from mood to mood, major to minor, and with constant references to other composers, sometimes admiringly, as with Chopin, Stravinsky, Massenet or Chabrier, other times with malice, as with Richard Strauss, Wagner, and even Debussy. If you like playing "Name That Tune," Poulenc is a gold-mine.

The French critic Claude Rostand described Poulenc as "part monk, part guttersnipe." The "monk" part did not appear until he was in his mid-thirties. A close friend was killed in a car crash, and this made a profound impact on Poulenc. He repaired to a religious retreat and began that very night to write his first religious work, the Litanies a la Vierge Noire de Rocamadour.

Poulenc was a superb melodist, and his many songs have won much acclaim. His lyricism is so beguiling, and his religious fervor so sincere, that lovers of vocal music will accept, within a religious context, what they would consider frivolous in his secular works. In fact, some go so far as to argue that he composes almost as two different personalities, depending on whether his work is secular or religious. Others assert that he underwent a profound change upon the death of his friend, and that he left his youthful irreverence behind.

I see a gradual evolution in his work, but no great dichotomy. It's true that in his religious works he makes fewer references to the music of other composers, and more to his own, and that what references he does make are not for the sake of irony, but contribute to the artistic integrity of the work. But references, there are.

The Roman Catholic Mass is divided into two categories, the Proper, wherein the prayers vary daily throughout the church year, and the Ordinary, which includes prayers sung with almost every Mass. The Ordinary has five sections: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei. Poulenc has selected the joyful Gloria as the subject of this work.

He has sub-divided it into six parts. They are named for the opening line.

I. Gloria. Maestoso (Majestic.)
The opening of the movement (which owes a lot to Stravinsky) is dramatic, rather than joyful. The introductory motif is repeated several times, at the end of which the trumpets sound a more optimistic note just before the entry of the male voices which begin a determined rhythmic pounding. Poulenc has written of "reading between the lines" of the poetry he sets, and stresses the need to respect the intent of the poet, making the music fit the text. In spite of this avowal, Poulenc has been criticized for subordinating the text to the exigencies of the music. A good example can be found in the first line of this text, where he changes the position of the accented syllables from the normal spoken Latin "in excelsis Deo" to the sung "in excelsis Deo."

II. Laudamus Te. Tres vif et joyeux (Very lively and joyful.)
this is lively and joyful, indeed, and opens with effective use of the brass. Here we have the old Poulenc of thirty years before, with his music-hall references, proof tha he does not change his style completely when he writes religious music. Some might protest the impropriety of the bawdy, dancelike rhythms for the setting of the text meaning "we praise Thee, we bless Thee..." There is, perhaps, an aura of atonement for this irreverence in his reference to Gregorian chant in the middle section, before the return of the dance rhythms.

III. Domine Deus. Tres lent et calme. (Very slow and calm.)
The soloist is first heard in this movement. The music is slow, and melodic, but with a downward character. This is another break from tradition. Text about the King of Heaven is usually set to loud and majestic music. Here, it is very quiet and reflective.

IV. Domine Fili Unigenite. Tres vite et joyeux. (Very lively and joyful.)
This is very familiar Poulenc, reminding us of some of his earliest music, the Concert Champetre, of 1929. Again, wh have unusual text stresses, and the playful and exciting character of the music is a departure from the traditionally gentle music earlier composers used for the text about Jesus, the Son. Note the dissonances on the almost shouted "Jesus Christe!"

V. Domine Deus, Agnus Dei. Tres lent; Plus allant. (Very slow and calm; more pace.)
This is the most operatic of the sections, reminding us of Poulenc's Dialogues of the Carmelites. It may well be the most moving part of the work. It begins with a doleful motif. When the soprano enters, her theme makes a wide leap uupwards. The piece begins in a melancholy mood, but repeatedly takes a more hopeful turn. The major seventh, usually conceived as a dissonance, is here so ubiquitous that our ears accept it as the harmonic basis for the movement.

VI. Qui Sedes ad Dexteram Patris. Maestoso. (Majestic.)
The final section begins with an outburst, and establishes a rising, even jaunty movement. Despite its reminders of medieval organum, it has a decidedly twentieth-century sound, with its sevenths lending an air of mystery to the work. The dramatic chords of the opening movement reappear as a structural closure before the final "Amens."

The Gloria was commissioned by the Serge Koussevitzky Music Foundation of the Library of Congress. It was first performed in 1961 by the Boston Symphony Orchestra with the Pro Musica Chorus.

*My thanks to Dr. Patricia Cahalan for her insights concerning vocal aspects of the Poulenc Gloria. J.R.C.A.