Charles-Valentin Alkan (1813-1888)
Complete Piano Music Volume 6: Character Pieces and Grotesqueries
Mark Viner (piano)
rec. 2018-22, Westvest Church, Schiedam, The Netherlands
Piano Classics PCL10275 [78]

When I first started collecting in the 1970s and discovered a passion for unsung romantic piano composers I recall two goals – could I please have the complete Godowsky and the complete Alkan? It would take many years but the former was finally achieved thanks to many pianists, foremost amongst them Marc-André Hamelin and Konstantin Scherbakov and it now appears that the latter is in sight thanks to the enterprising and exciting Mark Viner. Previous volumes have garnered praise; the first covered the less familiar major key études (Piano Classics PCL10127), the Préludes make up volume 2 (PCL10189) and volume three added the Grande Sonate and Morceaux dans le genre Pathétique op.15 (PCL10209). Marches and the Symphony from the op.39 minor key études appear on volume 4 (PCL10207) and volume five takes a religious turn with the Pièces dans le style religieux op.72 (PCL10197) alongside two newly discovered études. Much like volume four this latest volume collects together miscellaneous works that have a loose connection without fitting into any Alkan’s larger groupings: Fantasies, caprices, a couple of fugues thrown in and a once upon a time in the form of a little tale – the petite conte – to start the recital. This is one of the first pieces by Alkan that I heard courtesy of Alkan stalwart Raymond Lewenthal. The naïve simplicity of its tripping opening bars does little to suggest the adventures to come; there is a cascade of decoration that Alkan expects the pianist to play whilst maintaining the delicacy of the theme, executed by Viner with insouciant ease, as well as the little choice, off-key notes that Alkan innocently places along the way with a sly oh, did I do that…? impishness. A rarity, if a rather slight one, follows in the form of a 24 bar canon from a manuscript housed in a New York library. Viner plays the perky marching tune three times through to give it a degree of substance.

The inspiration for Jean who weeps and Jean who laughs appears to come from the same source as his later esquisse op.63 no.39 Héraclite et Démocrite, the weeping and laughing philosophers, namely Voltaire’s poem Jean who weeps and who laughs. This unity of opposites reflects the familiar faces representing the Greek muses of tragedy and comedy, Melpomene and Thalia staring down from many a theatre arch. Musically Jean’s moods are represented by two fugues, the first solemn and highly chromatic while the second will sound familiar – perhaps Jean is amused that listeners are wondering why Mozart’s oh-so-bubbly Fin ch’han dal vino is being played so sedately?  One only has to hear the intricate counterpoint, notice the superhuman stretches, double trills and such to realise that, yes maybe this is the perfect tempo. Opposites feature in another pair here, Ma chère liberté et Ma chère servitude. No fugues this time, freedom here shown here as a chordally driven song without words that gives way to a frolicking scherzo featuring the quasi-note clusters that Alkan found so fascinating. Servitude is expressed well by the plodding and occasionally mechanical movement of the accompaniment to the minor key theme.

The chordal timbre of Ma chère liberté is echoed in the first of the fantasies here, Désir with its rather hymn-like melody. It is a study in legato and melodic chord playing that Viner plays with serene grace. For an actual étude we have le Chemin de fer which must surely be the first musical depiction of the railway. My knowledge of railway history is sadly lacking but a glance online suggests that average speeds in the mid 19th century were around 40 mph though they could go faster on straight track. Alkan was evidently thinking to the future and foreseeing the bullet train in this mad, whirlwind, cross-country sprint, a dash that holds no fears for Viner. To show that this isn’t a fluke he adds the toccatina or little toccata– typical Alkan understatement there – a dazzling and dizzying moto perpetuo. Battle pieces were once a popular genre though unfortunately their banality was directly linked to the number of descriptive words in the score – cannons roar, the enemy advances or the retreat is sounded. Thankfully Alkan was able to drag the genre into respectability with his two caprices Le tambour bat aux champs and Capriccio all-soldatesca that combine all the accoutrements of military music with a varied harmonic scheme – a far cry from the three chord wonders usually served up – and some ferocious and adventurous writing for the piano. Quite apart from the enigmatic major/minor ending of the latter there is the wonderful moment where calm descends on the scene and all that is heard is fragments of the heroic theme high up in the piano against a low throbbing repeated note bass; it conjures quite a picture. Quasi-Caccia is a hunting caprice published at the same time; if it is a hunt that is being evoked it is surely of supernatural origin perhaps involving hell hounds and doubtless some skeletal figures on black steeds with blazing red eyes rather than the jolly, proper affair that Mendelssohn painted in his song without words hunting song.

As for fantasy Alkan presents two Fantasticheria, simply titled in the case of the first and Chapeau bas! – hats off! – for the second. Both are neglected but are quite remarkable in some ways. The first opens with a canon whose voices almost trip over each in their determined haste before a stern march begins. At the point that Alkan marks the score suddenly sweetly he pockmarks the chords with piquant clashing discords as if it is the most natural thing ever and not a nod to a future that was many years off. Bar after bar of interlocking octaves, a cantabile section that seems almost simple until it slides off into unexpected keys and a return to the canon, now even more frantic in its haste all add to the weirdness and wonder of this kaleidoscopic fantasy, a work that must have bewildered and worried those who came across this music. Perhaps not surprising that it is only recently that it has had its chance to shine. Chapeau bas! doesn’t surprise in quite the same way though Alkan does have some interesting harmonic turns; a whole passage in C major on a repeated middle C, staccato thirds bouncing over the top sandwiched between two B minor passages. This is in one of the quieter moments in the middle where Alkan is not asking the pianist to play keyboard encompassing octaves for bars on end or placing the main theme in the left hand and consigning fleet semiquavers over the top in the right hand…oh and now can you do the same but make it very quiet…hmm, and add a left hand melody. Thankfully Mark Viner is at the helm and all these wonders are dispatched with aplomb.

Alkan’s understatement returns for the final items, the three little fantaisies that had appeared in print two years previously. There are many pieces that deserve a wider audience but I would put these three marvellous pieces near the top of that list. The rhythm and sharp contrasts of the first bring hints of Schumann to mind though Alkan is far too individual to mistake him for anyone else. In the sharply detached second motif who would think that each melody note is actually four rapidly played individual spread notes – note clusters once again – and I can’t think of another piano composer of the time who would come up with the glorious and unexpected final page, a magical web of delicate chords covering the entire keyboard. The delights continue in the second fantasy where the perky tune is accompanied by a syncopated left hand that just precedes each note, so effective when it is spread so consistently through the work, barring a short interjection where the hands combine into virtuosic running semiquavers in two octave unison, a figuration he was to repeat in the third of his op.76 études. The third is a catch-me-if-you rondo, feverishly driven with sharp contrasts between the slow melody and the electrically charged bundle of notes that opens the piece. There is barely any let up in the energy and Alkan is always trying to find new keyboard textures; there is no empty virtuosity here, everything seems to have a purpose. At the end the high flying interlocking octaves that rang out in the upper reaches of the keyboard now die down into the depths, signalling a breathless end to the helter-skelter pursuit. It all ends with a sudden fortississimo chord; Gotcha!

That this series is in good hands is my own little understatement. Viner’s pianism is of the highest order and he finds time to let the music breathe even in the most tortuous passages. He brings an unforced ease of phrasing to the simpler moments, the opening of the petite conte or the lyricism of désir that continues effortlessly even as the difficulties add up and whatever is required at those moments, be that delicate fragility, declamatory heroism, tormented struggle or sardonic wit, is there at his disposal. It is a sign of how much Alkan’s stature has grown since I started collecting that even in this collection of curiosities only two items, pour Monsieur Gurkhaus and Jean qui rit, are first recordings; the advantage of course is that all these pieces are collected together in marvellous sound and staggering performances.

Rob Challinor

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Contents
Petite Conte (pub.1859)
PourMonsieur Gurkhaus (1863)
Jean qui pleure et Jean qui rit – due fughe de camera (pub.1840)
Toccatina Op.75 (pub.c.1872)
Désir – fantaisie (pub.1844)
Capriccio all-soldatesca Op.50 (pub.1859)
Le tambour bat aux champs, esquisse Op.50bis (pub.1859)
Fantasticheria (pub.1867)
Chapeau bas! Seconda fantasticheria (pub.1872)
Ma chère liberté et Ma chère servitude – deux petites pièces Op.60 (pub.1859)
Quasi-Caccia, caprice Op.53 (pub.1859)
Le chemin de fer, étude Op.27 (pub.1844)
Trois petites fantaisies Op.41 (pub.1857)