The Corn Poppy, the painting that illustrates this post, is an oil paint from 1919 by the Dutch painter Kees Van Dongen. It is not very large, 21 1/2 x 18 in, and it is part of the permanent collection of the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. For some time, a friend of mine often had to travel to that city and fell in love with those big eyes and their innocent expression. I’ve only seen the painting through reproductions but my friend made me fall in love with it too, it became our painting. Sometimes, doesn't it happen that you share with a friend the love for a movie, a song, a picture, and whenever you see or listen to it, it reminds of him or her?

 

 

I’ve been neglecting Mahler for a year, how could this happen? It's like one of those friends that one day, you realize you haven’t talked to for a longtime so you phone right away; when I noticed Mahler’s absence, I rush to choose one of his Lieder and the first volunteer was Der Tamboursg'sell (The drummer boy). I admit that I hesitated because it's a tough song but the drummer insisted...

Der Tamboursg'sell is the last Lied that Mahler wrote on a text from Des Knaben Wunderhorn, during the  summer of 1901, and it was originally written with orchestral accompaniment. What we hear in it is terrifying: a drummer’s way from his cell to the gallows. [...]

 

Last week we were listening to Chanson Triste by Henri Duparc, a mélodie from the early days of the genre, which began around 1870. However, what was there in France before the Mélodie? Any other song genre? Yes, there was Romance. Let’s place ourselves in the middle of the 18th century. The French Court sung either songs inspired by ancient legends or songs that talked about pastoral or sentimental stories in an ancient poetic style; those songs were called romances. The texts were simple and the music was simple too, so as everybody was able to perform them; however, unlike Classical Lied (born in Germany at the same time) romance wasn’t related to traditional music and, most of all, didn't have any artistic ambition. An example from that period is Plaisir d'amour by Jean Paul Martini, that we listened on this blog a few months ago; although it's not the [...]

 

When a song becomes an earworm for weeks, I usually end up sharing it in this blog and Chanson triste, by Henri Duparc, has been begging for its turn for a longtime. Reviewing the previous posts with Duparc's songs, I realized that I had barely spoken about this composer. As he's one of the most performed in recitals, you may have noticed that in the usual blocks of four or six songs, some few always come up; that's not because there are the most popular but because he doesn't have anymore. Henri Duparc's catalogue includes exactly seventeen songs, one of which is a duo, so it’s scarcely performed. Pretty amazing, isn't it?