Fauré: Piano Trio in D minor, Op.120 (1923)
Allegro, ma non troppo
Andantino
Allegro vivo
At first this may seem an extraordinary, perplexing, elusive, and difficult piece of music; for the players (unless s/he has experience of the second piano quintet) it requires the digesting and mastering of a totally new and unusual idiom – there is no other work quite like it in the entire piano trio repertoire. Themes seem tenuous and meandering (especially in the central movement), and have a habit of petering out inconclusively; textures are sometimes concentrated towards the middle of the range, making it awkward to trace the leading voice; overall shape is hard to define and project, mainly due to the above points, but also because of the problem of identifying key centres – which, after all, is one of the principal means of finding one’s way round even the most complex of sonata structures.
The listener may equally feel in foreign territory, although the avid visitor to the concert room might well claim some advantage through familiarity with the late song cycles – e.g. Le Jardin Clos or L’Horizon chimérique – or more likely the last few Nocturnes and Barcarolles for piano. Even the most intimate knowledge of his best loved work, the Requiem, will only be of partial help, since this was composed at a much earlier stage of his career – a career which seemed fundamentally concerned with a gradual refining and economising, stripping away all excess rhetoric and indulgence, the sublimating of his Art to the highest intellectual and moral ideals (not that he always conducted his private life along the same lines…..!). A feeling for this process can be grasped by a quick comparison of this meditative and, at times, austere trio with the intensely lyrical and passionate (and far more familiar) first piano quartet. Fauré was rarely a composer of an inherently dramatic or theatrical disposition – lovers of the Requiem will know that he had no pretensions there to being a Berlioz or a Verdi. So even though he had composed chamber music regularly throughout his life, it was quite natural that during his last eight years he should have been particularly drawn towards that most intimate medium for musical expression: and although the string quartet (Op.121), completed not long before his death, proved to be his final utterance, the series also included a violin sonata (No.2), two cello sonatas, a piano quintet (No.2), and this piano trio.
Fauré’s late musical style is essentially one of inward communion, so the listener may need to work hard if s/he is not to feel “excluded”. So what is there to look forward to during the next twenty minutes?! Certainly (if this is to be a first encounter) there will be the experience of something new and different, which in itself should be engaging and stimulating. But a more profound, lasting impression might be of a rare and precious glimpse into an ordered, civilised world of elegance and serenity, where subtle understatement takes the place of spectacular thrills, where the archaic principles of canon replace the more obviously sensual bed of lush harmony and colour. Always concentrate on the melodic lines, for in them lies the essence of this music. Often they clash, producing dissonances which are not always resolved. But these are incidental, arising naturally out of the polyphony, and are not specifically intended to startle or offend. In any case, it should not be forgotten that this is twentieth century music, and that The Rite of Spring, Pierrot Lunaire, and Washington’s Birthday were old hat by then! Nevertheless, be assured that the performers take ultimate responsibility for guiding you through all of this…. Ultimately assisted through the trio’s boasting one of the more energetic finales of those last few years.
Before that, the Andantino is like a long, peaceful dream, its endless melodies flowing undisturbed through a terrain of distilled beauty. The improvisatory nature of these sounds almost conjures up an image of Fauré himself, ruminating pensively over the keyboard, his fingers idly wandering through all manner of strange tonal regions. There is rather more outward contrast between the three sections of this trio than in the yet more ruminative string quartet which follows; indeed, the opening movement sets off with real purpose and resolve, helped along on the piano by endless arpeggio accompaniments which gradually become almost obsessive.
Although the trio was originally performed by three conservatoire graduates at the Société Nationale de Musique, on 12th May 1923, the composer was too frail to be present; fortunately, he was able to hear it the following year, played by the great Alfred Cortot, Jacques Thibaud and Pablo Casals. What is rather less well known is that, although his publisher Durand had put pressure on the ageing composer to the effect that it was time he composed a piano trio, Fauré’s original plan was with clarinet rather than violin. Indeed, much of the first movement was indeed written for this combination, and although the composer was soon persuaded by Durand that the more traditional piano trio instrumentation would sell more copies, there nevertheless seems every justification in occasionally presenting a complete version true to his original thoughts.
© Alan George
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