To tell you that Oliver Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time) is a monument of the repertoire that must be tackled with the utmost caution, as one can easily miss the mark, would be stating the obvious, which still falls short of reality. The story is quite well known: Messiaen, imprisoned in a German war camp during the Second World War (the famous Stalag VIII-A), composed and created his famous Quartet there, for piano, violin, cello and clarinet. An original instrumentation dictated by circumstances: these were the instruments at his disposal and those played by his fellow prisoners, at least those who were musicians.
La foi qui soutient tout
The Quartet is deeply inspired by the faith of its author. The title thus evokes the eschatological concept of the Bible. But not only that. The “time” in question also refers, more subtly, to musical time, to the measure and rhythms that are inscribed within it according to the habits of Western classical music up to that point. There is therefore in the Quartet a masterful rhythmic freedom, the ‘’end of time’’, inspired both by mystical considerations, by a compositional modernity then in full effervescence and even by stints in extra-Western music such as Indian ragas. All this added to exceptional technical, expressive and communicative demands. The result, when the stars and the artists involved are well aligned, can be overwhelming.
This version presented here by ATMA classique is of a very high order. All the more so because the circumstances that brought the four musicians together are at the very least serendipitous (ON THIS SUBJECT, READ THE INTERVIEW WITH PIANIST LOUISE BESSETTE).
What one notices from the very first notes is first and foremost the timbral beauty of the entire musical ensemble created by the four Canadian artists. There is a kind of cohesion and spiritual union that becomes palpable through the intuitive and very sensitive sculpting of the different movements (eight) of the work.
Liturgie et Vocalise
The first movement, Liturgie de cristal (Liturgy of Crystal), sets the table with its incomparable bird songs (the blackbird on the clarinet and the nightingale on the violin). The colourful tinkling, supported by the gently filtered piano chords, instantly transports us into a world of great sonic poetry, fully mastered and drawn with great refinement.
The Vocalise pour l’Ange qui annonce la fin du temps (Vocalise for the Angel who announces the end of time), the second movement, starts with a bang with adequately threatening bursts of piano chords, against which the clarinet tries to resist with its desperate cries and the lamenting violin. The central portion, the “impalpable harmonies of the sky” according to Messiaen, is offered in a beautiful amber, twilight lighting by the artists, before the final return of the vehement Angel’s furious exclamations.
L’Abime du temps, la force des oiseaux
The third movement, l’Abysse des oiseaux (the Abyss of Birds), is one of the greatest wonders of writing for a solo wind instrument (here the clarinet). Counterintuitively, it is not a funeral announcement, but rather, at least in my mind, a solemn affirmation of resistance to despair, a life force.
The abyss is Time, with its sorrows, its weariness. The birds, it’s the opposite of Time; it’s our desire for light, stars, rainbows, and jubilant vocalisations.
– Messiaen
Dominic Desautels projects his rebellion against the deadly wear of Chronos with powerful conviction. Sometimes to the point of tearing. But the Abyss also has remarkable passages of introspection and contemplation, at the limits of audibility and always with great sonic beauty. Gervase de Peyer’s incandescent playing (on EMI) may not be surpassed, or Michael Collins’s ultra-velvety clothing (on a BBC Live recording), but the Hamilton Philharmonic’s principal clarinettist Desautels here gives us a damn convincing performance of this iconic episode from the Quartet.
Intermède, Louange et fureur
The very short Interlude, a smiling scherzo, brings a necessary dose of lightness after the moments of overwhelming emotions that precede it. Then follows the other absolute marvel of the Quartet: the Louange à l’éternité de Jésus (Praise to the Eternity of Jesus). A piece of extreme slowness, but exquisite, Praise features a cello of transcendent piety (superb Cameron Crozman) that hovers above the piano and its chords, modestly laid down by Louise Bessette, as if indicating the mark of a metric time testifying to the flight of the world and of life.
The sixth movement Danse de la fureur pour les sept trompettes (Dance of Fury for the Seven Trumpets), has curiously never been my favourite. Go figure why, it doesn’t particularly move me. But it has nothing to do with the extraordinary technical difficulty required of the four instrumentalists. Everyone plays in unison on rhythmic extravaganzas of great difficulty. The ability of each soloist to be precise to the millisecond, and in perfect sync with everyone else, is something to behold, when successful. It gives the impression of a unified sound block. We may have achieved a greater symbiosis with Barenboim and co., but the artists present here offer a performance worthy of the best.
Stone music, formidable sonorous granite; irresistible movement of steel, of enormous blocks of purple fury, of icy intoxication
– Messiaen
Une finale céruléenne
The incomparable penultimate movement, Fouillis d’arcs-en-ciel, pour l’Ange qui annonce la fin du temps (Jumble of Rainbows for the Angel who announces the End of Time), pulsates and bubbles with tangible textures and electric energy. Cameron Crozman’s cello is terrific, imitating ondes martenot (dear to Messiaen). The surge of iridescent hues is handled and made very lively by everyone, up to the shrill and final cry of the clarinet.
…a swirling, a gyratory penetration of superhuman sounds and colours. These swords of fire, these flows of blue-orange lava, these sudden stars: here is the jumble, here are the rainbows!
– Messiaen
The work ends with a second Louange à l’éternité de Jésus (Praise to the Eternity of Jesus), this time provided by the violin, which, according to Messiaen, evokes the humanity of Jesus (in the previous one, his divine side was evoked). We understand why the music gradually rises to cerulean highs, like the ascending Christ, and concludes an initiatory journey of immense artistic power.
This all-Canadian reading, without taking the place of always essential reference versions, has something to proudly assume its companionship with them. Having reached this level of quality, we can no longer establish a hierarchy, from “best to less good,” but rather enjoy the unique interpretive light offered to us, in a spirit of complementarity with others of the same calibre.
The program is completed by the rare Fantasy for violin and piano from 1933. Messiaen is still young, still groping, imbued with modernism then in vogue. But we can still hear in the background, and sometimes explicitly, the amazing harmonic turns, and the rhythmic adventures, that the mature composer will master with genius. Mark Lee and Louise Bessette infuse a vivifying dose of energy and embodiment into this youthful piece by the Frenchman.
The superb sound recording was made at the Domaine Forget hall. The audience present must have had an unforgettable… time.
READ THE INTERVIEW WITH LOUISE BESSETTE HERE
