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Self-examination

At least three articles by Messiaen in Le Monde musical are of interest: two of them discuss substantial works about which the composer wrote relatively little elsewhere (L’Ascension and the Chants de terre et de ciel) and all three were written when the works in question were very new: (a) ‘L’Ascension’, unsigned article with music examples, 28 February 1935, pp.48–49. (b) ‘La Nativité du Seigneur’, article with music examples, 30 April 1936, pp.123–24; Messiaen concludes the article with an enthusiastic review of an organ recital by Guy Lambert. (c) ‘Autour d’une parution’, article about Chants de terre et de ciel, 30 April 1939, p.126.

The earliest article is on the first (orchestral) version of L’Ascension, and it usefully provides some stylistic commentary on a work about which Messiaen was uncharacteristically reticent in later life. Though unsigned, the article is unquestionably by Messiaen and includes reproductions of music examples in his own hand. It was published in Le Monde musical on 28 February, three weeks after the work’s premiere at the Concerts Siohan on 9 February 1935. After giving details of the first performance and providing the movement titles and subtitles, Messiaen goes on to assess the work’s stylistic innovations. By 1944 he seems to have regarded L’Ascension as relatively uncharacteristic – in the list of works at the end of Technique de mon langage musical it is not awarded any of the Michelin-type stars which Messiaen gave ‘characteristic’ works (one star) and ‘very characteristic’ works (two stars) – but at the time of its premiere Messiaen was very positive about the work’s originality. In language which is an uncanny pre-echo of the theoretical ideas laid out in the preface to La Nativité du Seigneur, published the following year, he explains the technical principles at work in L’Ascension, including one of his earliest published references to the ‘modes of limited transpositions’.

1. The enrichment of tonality through the use of ‘modes of limited transpositions’. As with the chord of the diminished seventh in the past, these bring a new colour to the melody and the harmony. 2. Extension of accidental notes by the use of ‘pedal-fragments’ and ‘appogiatura-fragments’. These have their own harmonic and melodic life, independent of the musical substance which they embellish.

In the commentary on each movement, it is again interesting to note the emphasis Messiaen places on musical and technical innovation:

The first movement of L’Ascension is a majestic brass chorale. The solo trumpet sings and rises up on a mode of limited transpositions, supported by spacious dominant[-seventh] chords.

The construction of the second movement is descended from plainchant graduals and hymns. Through the medium of solo woodwinds, the theme, a kind of vocalise, develops melodically, accompanied by appogiatura-fragments and pedal-fragments based on the second mode of limited transpositions. After the cor anglais, the oboe and the clarinet, the wind ensemble sings ‘Alleluia’ under a luminous haze of trills and harmonies in the strings.

A joyful 3/8, vigorous and sunlit, constitutes the third movement. Again the appogiatura-fragments can be heard clearly. After a long crescendo, the theme appears on the whole orchestra, fortissimo, in an augmentation, and gives way to a sort of Dance before the Ark.

The fourth movement leads us into the mysteries of the Divine plan. The second movement was the most important part of the work from the point of view of its innovations in technique, form and musical language. But the fourth movement is its emotional peak. It grows from a serene phrase, ecstatic and palpable, for the strings which rise up and float, ever higher, finally arriving on a simple augmented-sixth chord which seems to have no end.

In the issue of 30 April 1936, Messiaen discusses La Nativité du Seigneur, which had received its first performance at the end of February but which had just been published by Leduc. It is an interesting article but one which contains no surprises: there is the expected emphasis on the rhythmic and harmonic techniques used. Like the article on L’Ascension, it contains music examples in the composer’s hand.

The last of the three articles concerns Messiaen’s song-cycle Chants de terre et de ciel, the only one of his major works first performed under a title which was changed by the time of its first publication. At the premiere, given by Marcelle Bunlet and the composer at the Concerts Triton on 23 January 1939, the work was billed as Prismes. It was published by Durand in April 1939 as Chants de terre et de ciel. In his article ‘Autour d’une parution’ in the same month’s issue of Le Monde musical, Messiaen describes his view of the work:

My Chants de terre et de ciel (for soprano and piano) have just been published by Durand. As this is a very individual work (more than just the title!) which has been, is, and will be vigorously discussed and attacked, I want to provide some commentary on it. As the author of both the poems and the music, I can plead neither for nor against, but to set out honestly my intentions.

First of all, I wanted to compose a religious, Catholic work. I wrote recently in Art Sacré: ‘If there is such a thing as essentially religious art, then it is equally essentially diverse. Why? Because it expresses ideas about a single being, who is God, but a being who is ever-present and who can be found in everything, above everything, and below everything.’ Every subject can be a religious one on condition that it is viewed through the eye of one who believes. Why should ‘Bail avec Mi’ (for my wife) be any less religious than ‘Antiene du Silence’ (for the day of the Guardian Angels)? Why should the same spirit of faith not run through ‘Arc-en-ciel d’innocence’ (for my little Pascal) and ‘Résurrection’ (for Easter Day)?

The third song, ‘Danse du Bébé-Pilule’ (for my little Pascal), has caused more surprise than the others. It has been said to resemble – as the same has been heard in the whole cycle – a nursery rhyme [’enfantine’]. Written for my son, it seeks to express the exuberant and unbounded enchantment of childhood: ‘The sweetness of stairs, surprise behind the doors; all the light birds fly from your hands. Light birds, pebbles, refrains, creamy light. As blue fish, as blue moons, the halos of earth and water. One lung alone in one reed.’ I really cannot understand what connection there is between these words and those of nursery rhymes.

The heart of the work is really the fifth song: ‘Minuit pile et face’ (for death). If you realise that I wanted to depict – in a setting of nocturnal bells – the remorse, the prayers, the anguish and the agony, followed by the heavenly calm of the dead, then you will admit that the end of the poem (quoted below) can have a poignant effect (and not a childish or comic one).

There follows a quotation from the poem. It is already very evident that Messiaen felt unusually defensive about this work and his intentions in writing it, but his concluding paragraph is the most startling: as a response to criticism, it is an extremely robust assertion of his musical integrity.

Now I turn to the matter of musical language. No – it isn’t crazy! For many years I have studied harmony, fugue and composition so that I can lay claim to knowing my craft. And if there is more vigour in this work than in previous ones, my favourite ‘modes of limited transpositions’ are still there, and also my juxtaposed harmonies, my pedal-groups, my cluster-chords. Still in place as well are my customary rhythms, based on added note values, on augmentation, on the absence of measured bars, offering a very simple but completely unconventional use of note-values and duration. Besides, I am not alone in this. My models were: first, Debussy, then plainchant and the work of the great Hindu rhythmician Çarngadeva. Certain pages of Schoenberg and Jolivet, certain French and Russian traditional melodies have not left me indifferent. Add to that the fact that I love Massenet because his music is tonal and well harmonised, and you have some idea of my style. As for those who moan about my so-called dissonances, I say to them quite simply that I am not dissonant: that they should wash their ears out!

Extract from ‘Offrandes oubliées: Messiaen in the 1930s’, by Nigel Simeone.