Concertos: Mathieu Addinsell, Gershwin
Lefèvre/Talmi & OSQ
Analekta AN 2 9814
Lessard: There is a theme running through the three concertos on this disc: they are naïve works. The first was composed by a child without the training needed to avoid certain stumbles. The second was composed by a specialist in movie music. And the third was written by someone who knew little about concertos, and had to be a quick study.
     The first is the Concerto de Québec by André Mathieu (1929-1968). Aside from his undeniable technical abilities, pianist Alain Lefèvre is a fountain of musical knowledge, and the many years he has spent searching out and dissecting the music of Mathieu indicates that he suffers from a contagious fascination. The booklet included with the CD gave me the urge to read more about the young adolescent who created this remarkable concerto. I usually comment a performance rather than criticize the music itself, a distinction on which I like to insist, but this composer is special.
     Mathieu was a child piano prodigy and a precocious composer. He signed his first composition when he was 4. By the following year he was winning over audiences and critics in Paris with his faultless technique, and his compositions earned him the sobriquet of the little Mozart of Canada.
     In Europe, in the age of Mozart and the other prodigious musicians, and even well beyond, all of life revolved about the arts, literature and music. Europe was an immense hothouse where a genius could develop fully. But in Canada, and indeed in all North America, things were different. There were countries to be built and societies to be organized. Large fortunes were then rare, and patrons were even rarer. Musical society was in its infancy. In short, the great European capitals were Canada's only reference in music. What is more, music, literature and painting had to share the public stage with costly and popular sporting events. Happily, in Europe the presence of so many musical and literary celebrities led to an emulation that survived economic and political revolutions.
     That is how Mathieu, on his first voyage to Paris, had the privilege of living in this stimulating atmosphere and meeting masters of both composition and interpretation. But then came the war and the return home, where Mathieu did not find the same fervor among his peers. At the tender age of 15 he suffers a romantic disappointment, the result of the narrow-mindedness of the time. He also suffers from the undue pressure of parents wanting to continue in a lifestyle to which they have become accustomed. Overwork and a growing alcohol problem lead to a burnout.
     At the age of 20 he is prematurely old, reduced to teaching, an activity he detests, and playing at pianothons. He is dead at 39, leaving an immense work: 200 compositions, most of them unknown. Let us hope Lefèvre will have the energy to continue his gigantic work of excavation, to bring into the light other worthy pieces from the poorly-known musician.
     Now to the concerto itself. The Allegro moderato is full of traps, of which Lefèvre makes light. In full possession of his technique, he makes passages of great beauty veritably sing. The long Andante was used in the 1947 film La forteresse. The Orchestre Symphonique de Québec plays it with consummate lyricism, and the pianist adopts all of its sensitivity, with a zest of rubato in certain passages. There is such joie de vivre in the lively and rhythmic first notes of the Allegro con brio, which is quickly transformed into a sad and nostalgic air, followed by impressively energetic chords. The nostalgia then returns. The concerto ends in masterly fashion. Despite some minor irregularities in the concerto's construction, it is a remarkable work by a very young composer. André Mathieu was just 13.
     On the same recording, Richard Addinsell's Warsaw Concerto, commissioned for the 1941 film Dangerous Moonlight, will give you goosebumps. It opens in peremptory fashion with dramatic chords by the piano and the orchestra, and develops into a fresco notable for its nostalgia and emotion. This Neo-Romantic work also contains architectural flaws, but its emotional impact is seductive.
     A third concerto closes the album, and it's not just any concerto. Gershwin's Concerto in F is 34 minutes of jubilation. This is an impressive version by both pianist and orchestra, but without the magic of the version by André Previn (on Angel), who plays piano and conducts the London Symphony Orchestra, in a version that is more joyous and certainly more jazzy. But both versions are pleasing.
     Lefèvre is without a doubt a master of his keyboard, but he has a sometimes exaggerated vigor that results in fortissimo passages that are hard on the ear. As for the OSQ, it is Canada's oldest symphony orchestra. In recent years budget constrains forced it back to Mozartian size, with other musicians hired on contract as needed. It is conducted in excellent fashion by Yoav Talmi, and the orchestra has a distinctive sound I find enchanting.
     This is an audiophile-quality disc worth hurrying for. Copies are selling fast.