Call me mad, but I have a theory that François Couperin had a certain sympathy for the ladies who were forced to take the veil simply because their families could not afford to marry them off.
So much of Couperin’s Messe pour les Couvents is so cheerful. Even at the Offertoire, a part of the Mass taken most seriously by the organist-composers, the music skips along with abandon, especially following the plangent minor-key section.
In the final movement of the Kyrie, I remember my teacher (when this music was completely new to me) saying that it was “Cherubino marching off to the wars”. Some of the movements do, indeed appear to dance. At what price the final couplet of the Gloria? And what about the graceful minuet of the Dialogue sur la Voix humaine (6th Couplet)? The famous Basse de Trompette bubbles over with joy, and makes anyone wish to laugh, hearing the imaginary trumpeter reaching for his deepest notes!
The two Masses were, of course, early works. Yet the contrast between the deep seriousness of the Mass for the Parishes and that for the Convents is extraordinary. There are, indeed, joyful movements in the former, but the face, as it were, is not smiling. Naturally, Baroque music is very much allied to dance. While one might say the theatre seems close in the Convents, it is – strange to remark - far distant from the Parishes.
There are other French Classical composers whose sacred organ works have their theatrical elements, such as Clérambault’s Suites. One wonders what he was thinking when he wrote the famous Dialogue sur la Trompette, and even the marvellous Flûtes, which can be heard played in many different ways,
one recording from the 1970s finding extraordinary emotional depths.
Couperin, above all, had such wonderful command of mood and musical images. One would love to know his thoughts. I once had the pleasure of playing the Messe pour les Paroisses as an accompaniment to a performance relating to the maryrdom of St. Sebastian. The solo actor and I, performing in church, alternated exactly as occurs in the more normal context. It was remarkable to me how apposite each piece turned out to be, with no need for more than subtle colouring of one’s interpretation.
So much of Couperin’s Messe pour les Couvents is so cheerful. Even at the Offertoire, a part of the Mass taken most seriously by the organist-composers, the music skips along with abandon, especially following the plangent minor-key section.
In the final movement of the Kyrie, I remember my teacher (when this music was completely new to me) saying that it was “Cherubino marching off to the wars”. Some of the movements do, indeed appear to dance. At what price the final couplet of the Gloria? And what about the graceful minuet of the Dialogue sur la Voix humaine (6th Couplet)? The famous Basse de Trompette bubbles over with joy, and makes anyone wish to laugh, hearing the imaginary trumpeter reaching for his deepest notes!
The two Masses were, of course, early works. Yet the contrast between the deep seriousness of the Mass for the Parishes and that for the Convents is extraordinary. There are, indeed, joyful movements in the former, but the face, as it were, is not smiling. Naturally, Baroque music is very much allied to dance. While one might say the theatre seems close in the Convents, it is – strange to remark - far distant from the Parishes.
There are other French Classical composers whose sacred organ works have their theatrical elements, such as Clérambault’s Suites. One wonders what he was thinking when he wrote the famous Dialogue sur la Trompette, and even the marvellous Flûtes, which can be heard played in many different ways,
one recording from the 1970s finding extraordinary emotional depths.
Couperin, above all, had such wonderful command of mood and musical images. One would love to know his thoughts. I once had the pleasure of playing the Messe pour les Paroisses as an accompaniment to a performance relating to the maryrdom of St. Sebastian. The solo actor and I, performing in church, alternated exactly as occurs in the more normal context. It was remarkable to me how apposite each piece turned out to be, with no need for more than subtle colouring of one’s interpretation.
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