Program Notes for Part 1, 20 November 2022

César Franck, celebrating his bicentenary in 2022, is to the Romantic organ what J.S. Bach is to the Baroque organ: he wasn't the first, his music isn't everything, but he's at the absolute center of the repertoire. With just twelve pieces that combine for under three hours of playtime, he set the standard for composers to take advantage of the organ's new resources in the years after 1850. It's not a coincidence that the composer who said "Mon orgue, c'est un orchestre!" also invented the organ symphony (a piece that will have to wait for Part 2 of this series in January). But even in his other, less explicitly "orchestral" works, Franck exploited this timbral and coloristic imagination, developing a distinctive vocabulary of sounds to maximize the potential of Aristide Cavaillé-Coll's instruments. (And the influence of these organs and Franck's music for them shows up here in Chicago: it's not a coincidence that the E.M. Skinner organ in Rockefeller Chapel speaks French wonderfully.)

By reputation, Franck is often dubbed a Wagnerian. Maybe it's because I'm not much of a Wagnerian myself (to put it politely), but I've never quite understood that characterization: if we're comparing Francophone composers (Franck was born and grew up in Belgium) to Germans, I'd prefer to think of him as a Brahmsian. And I think this is demonstrated well by the Three Chorals, which is part of why I've chosen to begin this series with them (going in reverse chronological order). You could call these pieces "historicist," like so many works of Brahms: the openings of Chorals Nos. 2 and 3 pay overt homage to pieces by Bach (the Passacaglia in C minor BWV 582 and the Prelude and Fugue in A minor BWV 543, respectively); the Chorals each feature canons, fugues, and other gadgets of counterpoint; and the very idea of the chorale fantasia is a nod to Baroque tradition. (No matter that the chorales, in each case, are newly-composed.) When described that way, this music may sound awfully dry, but in fact Franck's priority is always the musical effect (another parallel with Brahms): we can hear this in the voluptuous melodies of Nos.1 and 3, the high drama and flashy fingerwork of Nos. 2 and 3, and the stunning harmonies of all three. (You may have heard that Franck once urged Debussy "Modulez, modulez!" These pieces show how that might have been just as much of a statement about Franck as it was about Debussy.)

If Franck can be accused of any sin as a composer, it's that he discovered a formula midway through his career and stuck to it. Loosely, the pattern is to establish a musical idea, juxtapose it with a contrasting one, and then—these are always the best moments—often to superimpose one on top of the other. This is presumably part of why Franck loved three-part structures: Three Chorals; Trois Pièces; Prélude, Fugue, and Variation; Prélude, Aria, and Finale; Prélude, Chorale, and Fugue...not to mention the three-movement Symphony and the three-movement Piano Quintet. There may be other reasons: Louis Robilliard (one of my great inspirations in playing this music) has suggested that the Three Chorals might form a Trinity of sorts. If you listen along with him, you might hear the Holy Spirit sweeping through the outer sections of No.3, the hammering of the nails to the Cross in the middle of No.2, and the Throne of Glory in the middle and at the end of No.1.

I can't offer a similar "program" for the Three Pieces, which perhaps follows a more traditional format for a single instrumental work: symphonically-conceived first movement, tuneful slow movement, and a finale to blow the audience (and maybe the player) away. But within this broader structure, we can find the same format of juxtaposition and transformation in each piece. The final apotheoses of the Fantaisie's main theme and the Pièce héroïque's solo song might remind you of the culmination of Choral No.1; the meltingly beautiful canon at the heart of the Cantabile might recall the fugato in the middle of No.2. Likewise, the shattered ending of the Fantaisie may bring to mind the solemn conclusion of Choral No.2; the high-speed figures that join in the reprise of the Pièce héroïque find their counterparts in Chorals Nos.2 and 3; and the trumpet's aria in the Cantabile would later flower forth again in the lyric sections of Chorals Nos.1 and 3.

As Dan Harrison once put it (writing about the Pièce héroïque), "Franck "nest[s] small-scale complexity within larger-scale simplicity....it is in the details that Franck's art is most impressive and beautiful." I have tried to give some sense of the large-scale formats of these pieces, but ultimately the joy to be had from them is in the individual moments, both the fleeting gems and the sweeping gestures. It is these moments that I hope you savor in these six pieces.

Program Notes for Part 2, 15 January 2023

For Part 2 of this survey of Franck's organ works, we'll be finishing where he began, with the early Six Pièces. (Rather than repeat myself, I've added my notes for Part 1 to my personal website: jacobreedorgan.com/franck; those notes include some background on Franck's career, style, and place in the organ repertoire.) To be sure, these pieces let us hear Franck discovering some of the sounds and techniques he would go on to refine in the later works. But they also give us an opportunity to explore an earlier style, mature in its own right, that is in some ways fresher and less overwrought than the late works can be. In other words: this is (more or less) Franck before Wagner.

These pieces thus also give us a better understanding of what is original to Franck himself. The chromatic harmonies and elaborate counterpoint of the later pieces are still very much present (maybe a bit less intensely chromatic), as are the unusual and innovative forms. And as for the organ itself, Franck's approach to the instrument and his palette of sounds hardly changed between 1860 and 1890; actually they seem to have shrunk as he settled into familiar patterns of weekly improvisation. While I don't want to understate the differences between the earlier and later works—anybody who has been able to attend both concerts will probably hear the contrast—I do perhaps want to say that Franck has been sold a bit short by those who would call him a mere imitator of German styles. (Or by those who only know the sometimes airless style of the later works.)

Grand pièce symphonique

Well, maybe I will repeat myself (and others) just a bit by recalling Franck's most famous remark on the organ: "Mon orgue, c'est un orchestre!" This piece is his proof. You can almost hear his excitement, trying out different kinds of figuration to imitate accompaniments in the strings and fanfares in the brass. And this is Franck's only piece to use the organ's full range of orchestral colors: the two versions of the slow movement feature the strident Clarinet and the shimmering voix céleste, while the scherzo that separates those Andantes augments the Oboe with a high-pitched trumpet and flute, a fascinating and sparkling sound. In the outer movements, there is a range of full-orchestra textures, using high and low registers, manuals and pedals, in order to create a striking variety of tutti effects.

Those outer movements, like the two slow movements, are really more like one interrupted movement, being based on the same thematic material. But the symphony as a whole is not quite a symmetrical arch: listen closely and you might hear the music of the introduction returning (sped up) in the scherzo. And the finale, in a nod to Beethoven's Ninth, has the themes from each of the previous movements march past before settling into a grandiose fugue. A peal of trumpets later and the piece comes to a triumphant close.

Prelude, fugue, and variation

This piece, on the other hand, most certainly is symmetrical: the variation is nothing more (and nothing less) than a reprise of the prelude with a beautiful filigree added. I'm not sure I need to say much more: with its charming melody and dignified inner fugue, there is a reason this is probably Franck's most performed organ work.

Fantasy in C

This first of Franck's organ works debuted many of his favorite sounds: string ensemble reinforced by oboe, trumpet accompanied by flute, crescendo in the brass, soft hymn on the vox humana. There are some musical links between these movements, but this is certainly Franck's most free-form piece: a very different conception of Fantasy from the tragic and symmetrical Fantasy in A from Part 1.

Pastoral

It's time for young Franck to show his report card to his parents:

"Restless child. Can't stay still—even in a simple assignment like a Pastoral, he changes keys and keyboards incessantly. Huge show-off: why is there a fugato in the middle? Why does he combine the two themes when the A section returns? Some points given back for creative use of the trumpet; I've never heard any student make it sound like a drumroll before. Outer sections are simple and beautiful as they ought to be. Color within the lines next time and get a better grade."

Prière

What does it say about the organ in 1860 that pieces needed to be labelled "prayer"? Does that make this a sacred piece? Probably not, given that all of Franck's organ works are pretty clearly secular recital pieces; the organ music at Mass would all be improvised. (As would much of an organ recital as well.) So that makes this into something like an evocation or imitation of a prayer: a piece designed to evoke (create?) a certain kind of rapt focus and febrile intensity.

Final

LOUD ORGAN PLAY LOUD. WITH PEDAL SOLO. But don't be distracted: this is the most harmonically adventurous of Franck's early organ works, and it tries on many of the tricks that he would later use in pieces like the Grand pièce symphonique (a fitting bookend) and the Pièce héroïque.