EIF: Emmanuel Ceysson and Friends
Queen’s Hall - 10/08/23
Emmanuel Ceysson, harp | Rakhi Singh, violin | Donald Grant, violin | Ruth Gibson, viola | Christian Elliott, cello | Charlotte Ashton, flute | Maximiliano Martin, clarinet
On the forenoon of Thursday 10th August, The Queen’s Hall hosted French harpist Emmanuel Ceysson in a programme of French harp music, solo and accompanied, familiar and unfamiliar. The friends joining him comprised an ad hoc string quartet composed of violinists Rakhi Singh (Hebrides Ensemble etc.) and Donald Grant (Elias Quartet), violist Ruth Gibson (Castalian Quartet) and cellist Christian Elliott (Irish Chamber Orchestra), together with flautist Charlotte Ashton (Royal Northern Sinfonia) and clarinettist Maximiliano Martin (Scottish Chamber Orchestra etc.). I noticed Maximiliano’s friend and colleague, the cellist Su-a Lee, seated five rows in front of me, enjoying the programme. The attendance was moderate, but far from capacity.
The first half consisted of three 20th-century works, all telling a macabre story. Henriette Reniée’s solo ‘Ballade Fantastique’ of 1912, based on a Poe short story, tells how a young man murders an older housemate and buries the body under the floorboards, only to be driven crazy with remorse and, convinced that the police can also hear the heartbeat he imagines emanating from under the floorboards, confesses his guilt. Emmanuel’s powers as a painter of musical pictures were thus revealed and sustained through the other pieces. For André Caplet’s 1925 ‘Conte Fantastique: Le Masque de la Mort Rouge’, he was joined by the string quartet. This tale told of a dreaded plague stalking the land and a selfish prince who, secure in his castle, parties with his aristocratic guests. The masque is interrupted by peremptory knocks on the door (the sound box of the harp, of course). It is the dreaded Mort Rouge personified, attending to reassert karma, on the stroke of midnight. As it happened, the plague seemed to strike cellist Christian Elliott’s bow, which snapped. He left the stage and returned with a spare, whereupon the closing pages resumed from the midnight bells. Marius Constant’s ‘Harpalycé’’ of 1980, another solo piece and no less gruesome, featured some extraordinary sonic effects I have never heard before so, although not conventionally melodic or harmonic, it held a grim fascination. The Greek tragedy tells of a king who rapes his beautiful daughter. The daughter slays the child born of the incest, cooks it and serves it up to the father, who goes mad when he realises the horror. The princess is transformed into a night bird. All these pieces showcase the instrument as much as the player, as technical innovations all emerged in France in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Emmanuel Ceysson’s prodigious virtuosity shone, even if the subject matter prompted a shiver or two.
The rivalry of French harp manufacturers did result in some pretty amazing commissions, including two of my favourites, Debussy’s ‘Danse Sacrée et Danse Profane’ and Ravel’s ‘Introduction and Allegro for Flute, Clarinet, Harp and Strings’, both of which were played in the second half, separated by a 1924 solo 3-movement ‘Sonatine‘ by Marcel Tournier. The Debussy opens with a very oriental-sounding ritual dance, giving way to a sensuous but graceful ballet – scrumptious and life-affirming. The Tournier reminded me of the subtle neo-classicism of Ravel’s ‘Tombeau de Couperin’, very charming despite its unfamiliarity. But the Ravel itself, a piece of glorious optimism and sunny warmth, has always suggested to me a lazy summer afternoon in a beautiful garden, and it received a superb outing, with all players ‘in the zone’ and giving of their best chamber music. A superb conclusion to an excellent lunchtime of top-quality music-making.