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Concerto for Organ, Strings, and Timpani

  • Composed by: Poulenc
  • Duration: about 20 minutes
Orchestration: organ, strings, and timpani

As a composer, Francis Poulenc habitually wrote dates at the end of his manuscript scores, and on the last page of the score of his Organ Concerto we read: “Noizay, April 1938–Anost, August 1938,” suggesting that this work occupied him for only four months.

In fact, this concerto’s gestation was long and difficult, and the composer openly admitted that it was one of the hardest pieces he ever wrote. Part of the challenge came because he had never written for the organ before, and although there were a few works for organ and strings widely played (Handel’s concertos for example), the addition of timpani to the mix created a completely new ambience for which there was no precedent.

The difficulty may also be attributed in part to the shift in Poulenc’s world­view at the time. His earlier music earned him prodigious success in the period just following World War I and, as a member of the group of composers known as Les Six (The Six), he was the one who most clearly personified the spirit of clowning and frivolity for which they became quickly notorious.

Later on, through his reattachment to the Catholic faith, a new strain of religious devotion blossomed in his music. He was aware that the Organ Concerto would probably be performed in churches, and its devotional tone likely belongs to that understanding. It was, likewise, in keeping with his quest for a deeper spiritual language that he set for himself certain obstacles of instru­mentation and form.

Two remarkable women were at the heart of the concerto’s origin. The first was the Princess Edmond de Polignac (born Winnaretta Singer), heiress to the sewing-machine fortune. After her husband’s death in 1901, the Princess established a pattern of commissioning works by composers for performances at her home, including Satie, Stravinsky, Milhaud, and Tailleferre. At its height, between the wars, the Princess’s salon was where the most important new French music of any kind was to be heard.

The other godmother to Poulenc’s concerto was composer and conductor Nadia Boulanger, who pioneered the revival of early music, taught several generations of young composers, and pushed for the acceptance of women conductors. She became a close friend of the Princess and, in 1933, started conducting concerts in the salon. The following year, the Princess suggested that Boulanger commission an organ concerto simple enough for her, Winnaretta, to play. The young composer Jean Françaix was initially asked but the task was soon passed to Poulenc.

By the time that Poulenc completed the concerto in 1938, it was no longer intended for the Princess as its solo performer. It premiered that December with celebrated composer and organist Maurice Duruflé playing the solo part, with Boulanger conducting. Still, the score is dedicated to the Princess and also acknowledges Duruflé’s help with the organ registrations (voicing the instrument in the appropriate octaves and timbres to be heard as distinct from the ensemble).

The form of the single-movement work is perhaps best understood as an introduction and five principal sections (respectively fast–slow–fast–slow–fast), with many suggestions of themes and figures borrowed from one section to another. The introduction offers an imperious statement in a solid G minor from the organ with a mild-mannered response. The strings suggest a lamenta­tion, and the music remains tentative until a decisive Allegro offers a bright forward motion, signaling the first main section. This reaches a brilliant G-major ending that gives way to another Andante, in which the music flows modestly along, mostly subdued. This too rises to a brilliant ending, with huge A-minor and A-major chords on the organ.

The third episode is speedy and agitated; the fourth is calm. The fifth is a reworking of the first Allegro, followed by the return of the opening bars. The remainder is a sublimely peaceful coda in which a viola and cello join the organ chords against a gently rocking figure in the rest of the strings and a long-held G from the organ’s foot pedals.

— adapted from a note by Hugh Macdonald