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FRANCIS POULENC (1899 - 1963)
Concerto for Two Pianos in D minor

Francis Poulenc was one of the youngest members of the six young French rebel composers of the 1920s, disciples of the iconoclastic Erik Satie, known as Le groupe des six. Their only uniting credo was the right to express themselves in their own personal way. They resisted what they considered the “phony sublimity” of the Romantic style, especially the legacy of Wagner, which Satie called “sauerkraut music.” Their goal was, as Poulenc wrote, to create music that was “clear, healthy and robust – music as overtly French in spirit as Stravinsky’s Petrushka is Russian.”

Poulenc came from an affluent family of pharmaceuticals manufacturers, the forerunners of France’s giant chemical conglomerate Rhône-Poulenc, and was considered the black sheep of the family. Urbane, sophisticated, witty and easy-going, the model of the Paris boulevardier whose idea of a day in the country was a stroll down the Champs Élysées, his public persona was reflected in his music. But in his late 30s, his music became more serious as he turned increasingly to religious subjects. His style owed much to Ravel’s impressionism and to neoclassicism, always with a clear sense of melody. He never participated in atonal or serial music so popular among his colleagues in Paris between the wars and after.  

The Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra reflects Poulenc’s lighter side, something of a romp through music history – classical and popular. It was composed in 1932 on a commission from Princess Edmond de Polignac (née Singer, as in sewing machines) and premiered in Venice the same year.

It opens with two clashing chords, followed by a sparkling entry of a four-note motive by the first piano. The second piano enters with different ideas, reflecting Poulenc’s fondness for the music hall, at times sounding like background music for a silent film, at others like French folksong. A mysterious duet for the two pianos that ends the movement supposedly reflects the sound of the Indonesian gamelan orchestra that Poulenc had heard at the Colonial Exhibition in Paris in 1931.

The slow second movement opens with a charming theme that Poulenc admitted was patterned after Mozart (most likely the second movement of the Piano Concerto No. 26 in D, K 537). But the second phrase of the theme quickly advances through the centuries, from the romantics, to the mild dissonance of the twentieth, to end on a refrain right out Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major K. 467, used in the film score of Elvira Madigan.

The Finale is an exuberant piece with hints of jazz. Poulenc indulges in his love for sweeping melodies hinting at the street music of the times.

All in all, with its sudden mood shifts and its dialogue between the playful and the serious, the Concerto for Two Pianos sounds like a score for a silent film. It was probably composed, and should be listened to, with tongue firmly placed in cheek. As an added diversion, try to count the many musical quotes and parodies from classical models.

FRANCIS POULENC (1899 - 1963)
Concerto for Two Pianos in D minor

Francis Poulenc was one of the youngest members of the six young French rebel composers of the 1920s, disciples of the iconoclastic Erik Satie, known as Le groupe des six. Their only uniting credo was the right to express themselves in their own personal way. They resisted what they considered the “phony sublimity” of the Romantic style, especially the legacy of Wagner, which Satie called “sauerkraut music.” Their goal was, as Poulenc wrote, to create music that was “clear, healthy and robust – music as overtly French in spirit as Stravinsky’s Petrushka is Russian.”

Poulenc came from an affluent family of pharmaceuticals manufacturers, the forerunners of France’s giant chemical conglomerate Rhône-Poulenc, and was considered the black sheep of the family. Urbane, sophisticated, witty and easy-going, the model of the Paris boulevardier whose idea of a day in the country was a stroll down the Champs Élysées, his public persona was reflected in his music. But in his late 30s, his music became more serious as he turned increasingly to religious subjects. His style owed much to Ravel’s impressionism and to neoclassicism, always with a clear sense of melody. He never participated in atonal or serial music so popular among his colleagues in Paris between the wars and after.  

The Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra reflects Poulenc’s lighter side, something of a romp through music history – classical and popular. It was composed in 1932 on a commission from Princess Edmond de Polignac (née Singer, as in sewing machines) and premiered in Venice the same year.

It opens with two clashing chords, followed by a sparkling entry of a four-note motive by the first piano. The second piano enters with different ideas, reflecting Poulenc’s fondness for the music hall, at times sounding like background music for a silent film, at others like French folksong. A mysterious duet for the two pianos that ends the movement supposedly reflects the sound of the Indonesian gamelan orchestra that Poulenc had heard at the Colonial Exhibition in Paris in 1931.

The slow second movement opens with a charming theme that Poulenc admitted was patterned after Mozart (most likely the second movement of the Piano Concerto No. 26 in D, K 537). But the second phrase of the theme quickly advances through the centuries, from the romantics, to the mild dissonance of the twentieth, to end on a refrain right out Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major K. 467, used in the film score of Elvira Madigan.

The Finale is an exuberant piece with hints of jazz. Poulenc indulges in his love for sweeping melodies hinting at the street music of the times.

All in all, with its sudden mood shifts and its dialogue between the playful and the serious, the Concerto for Two Pianos sounds like a score for a silent film. It was probably composed, and should be listened to, with tongue firmly placed in cheek. As an added diversion, try to count the many musical quotes and parodies from classical models.