The Music and Ideologies of Les Six– Part   1

The Music and Ideologies of Les Six

Music and Culture in France: 1900-1920

During the latter half of the nineteenth century, France became enamored with late German Romantic music. The mythological operas of Richard Wagner, in particular, seemed to quench the public’s thirst for dramatic music. Various French composers of the era, such as Vincent d’Indy (1851-1931), viewed his operas (Pasler 233) and traveled to his illustrious opera house in Bayreuth; consequently, their music mirrored Wagner’s compositional style (Gillmor 111). Even after Wagner’s passing in 1883, his musical influence and ideologies remained well into the turn of the twentieth century. Which of Richard Wagner’s musical techniques and beliefs captivated the French artistic world? More importantly, why did France succumb to this German composer’s music? Did any French composers after 1900 revolt against Wagnerism in their country’s music?

In order to answer these questions, one must briefly discuss several aspects associated with Wagner’s operas. Some of Wagner’s essays about music must also be examined, in order to see his way of thinking. Regarding France’s seemingly insatiable appetite for Wagnerism, one must also consider the country’s political climate during the late 1800s.

The Significance of Richard Wagner

Richard Wagner revolutionized the concept of opera by creating new harmonies and reviving the leitmotif. His opera music, such as Tristan und Isolde, often contained unresolved dominant chords that modulated continuously. In the past, some musicologists have credited Wagner for creating the leitmotif. Yet others, such as Ronald Taylor, have pointed out that several other composers, such as Mozart, Grétry, Berlioz, and Glinka

applied this to music before Wagner did (Taylor 62).  Taylor defined the Leitmotif (author’s italics) as something used primarily “… as a device of association, whether as a motif of reminiscence or of presentiment….” (62). Wagner utilized this device to depict objects or emotions through dramatic music.     

In addition to exploring new musical frontiers during his time (the 1850s-80s), Wagner also turned to music criticism. His expansive essays about music of the Romantic era provide provocative insight into his personality. A condescending and often deliberately racist tone of voice permeated these writings. Despite the fact that Wagner firmly believed in anti-Semitism, or the hatred of Jewish culture, one can still sense how passionate Wagner was. He displayed nepotism towards Beethoven’s music and utterly detested Felix Mendelssohn’s music (Wagner, Osbourne 20). Aside from bigotry, Wagner’s essays also revealed his disapproval of aspiring young composers. In his writings on musical composition, he did not applaud the younger

generations’ venture into creating art songs; he considered the genre too hackneyed and commonplace (11-13).

Musicologists, such as Alan M. Gilmor, have posited that the rise in Wagnerism in France was created as a means of reestablishing the country’s musical reputation after times of war. As Gilmore noted:

…The Franco-Prussian War had left a prostrate France in a state of artistic, as well as political confusion; the protracted hegemony of German music uneasily joined forces with a renewed French nationalism to produce a kind of aesthetic and cultural schizophrenia which was clearly exemplified by… the founding of the Société Nationale de Musique in 1871 and the publication from 1885 to 1888 of the Revue wagnérienne (110).

Based on this information one can observe that Wagnerism impacted the musical press as well. The multitude of journals from this era seemed to suggest that composers other than Richard Wagner were insignificant. That was, until Claude Debussy altered the public’s perception of French music.

Claude Debussy (1862-1918)

Claude Debussy was an innovative composer in his own right. Even though he visited Bayreuth (Wagner’s opera house) in the late 1880s, Debussy strongly opposed Wagnerism (Gillmor 111). Some musicologists, such as Carolyn Abbate, have suggested that some of Debussy’s compositions reflected Wagnerism (as in the opera Pelleas et Melesande). Yet, they have also shown that this similarity was incidental (Abbate 123-24). Debussy felt unabashed in saying or writing what he really thought about the German opera composer. In an excerpt from the music journal, La revue blanche in 1901, he once exclaimed that: “… the superimposition of symphonic form on to (sic.) dramatic music succeeds in killing opera rather than rescuing it, as it was claimed Wagner had done when he was crowned King of opera.”  (Taylor 256).

Debussy’s compositions, especially those written for piano, comprised an amalgam of influences. His early music from the 1880s and 90s, such as the Suite Bergamasque and Valse Romantique, often reflected a traditional or Romantic style. Much of his music from this period most closely exhibited the influence of Chopin (Gatti 419-22). If one were to examine the Valse Romantique, shown in Example 1 below, one would see that the score bears a striking similarity to Chopin’s waltzes (Deis 87-92):

Example 1: Debussy, Valse romantique (the influence of Chopin)

While Debussy’s early piano music appeared to adhere to the styles of the past centuries, there were some that seemed to foreshadow the composer’s later pieces. “Clair de lune” from Suite Bergamasque provides an excellent example of this. The title did not refer to a dance found in a typical suite; rather, it depicted moonlight. In terms of harmonies, “Clair de lune” suggested revolutionary compositional techniques such as planing by dominant chords and successive open fifths (Debussy, Henle 14-18). Example 2 demonstrates some of the aforementioned techniques:

Example 2: Clair de lune (demonstration of open harmonies)

Debussy expanded on these ideas later in other works such as the Preludes (1910-12). One need only observe an excerpt from “Le cathedral engloutie” (The Sunken Cathedral) in Example 3 to get a sense of Debussy’s treatment of open harmonic textures (Crossley CD 1, Tr. 10; Debussy, Henle 38). The first three measure are shown below in Example 3:

Example 3: Le cathedral engloutie (use of successive open fourths and fifths)

To some extent some of Debussy’s later piano pieces (from 1900 to his death in 1918) demonstrated a fondness for exotic music: be it popular American musical styles, such as the Cakewalk and Ragtime music, or Asian and Spanish music. These types of pieces also contained a sharp sense of humor.  The prelude, “Le serenade interrompue” (The Interrupted Serenade), in Example 4, mimicked the Flamenco guitar music of Spain. (Debussy, Henle 33-37, Crossley Disc 1, Tr. 9).

Example 4: “Le serenade interrompue” (imitation of the Spanish guitar)

Similarly, Debussy created a Jazz-type idiom in “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” from the Children’s Corner Suite (1906-08). The piece fused a rhythmical melody over an ostinato bass line of perfect fifths and major seconds (Debussy, Henle 22-23). Debussy also lampooned Wagner’s operatic music in this piece; the “B” section from measures 47 to 89 quoted passages from Tristan and Isolde mixed with biting seconds and thirds (23-24, Crossley CD 2, Tr.21).

Example 5: “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” (musical quotation and humor)

Debussy composed “Golliwog’s Cakewalk” at a time when France became obsessed with African American music (Rogers 56). Thus, this piece served more as the composer’s interpretation of this type of music than of the actual music itself. As M. Robert Rogers once mentioned in a critique about jazz music, “… Debussy managed to inject into the essential crudity of the thing he was trying to imitate a sophistication it did not know in its native haunts.” (57).

Perhaps what was also surprising about Debussy was how the general public reacted to his death in 1918. It presented a bitter irony because his passing appeared to spark more debate about nationalism. Myriad French music critics could not stop talking about how much his music had impacted their country (Kelly 6). Why did the French suddenly favor Debussy, as they had Wagner in the past?

The answer lay, at least partially, in the country’s involvement in World War I (6). This war (1914-1918) marked increased tension with Germany and signaled the end of Wagnerism in France. At this juncture, the people supposedly needed a composer who symbolized French musical ideals: a composer who did not cling to the taboo Germanic music for inspiration. Thus, some perceived Debussy as the epitome of this ilk of music. The fact that this composer died a few months before the war’s end only seemed to strengthen people’s desire for nationalistic music (6).

Avant-gardism and Dadaism

This seemed to trigger a cycle of sorts; more artistic movements were established in response to the perils of war.  The late 1800s to early 1900s witnessed the flourishing some of the most provocative steps in art: the avant-gardism and Dadaism. Musicologist Alan Gilmor has suggested that the avante-garde arts movement actually began in the 1880s (Gilmor 110). Unfortunately Wagnerism still loomed socially and psychologically in French art at that time. Thus, Avant-gardism did not take full effect until about a decade later (Gilmor 111-14). According to Gilmor, this movement represented the first signs of rebellion against conformity:

… Avant-gardism is inextricably linked to the concept of art –for-art’s sake. Its aesthetic basis is traceable to certain libertarian political movements of the early Romantic period– most notably anarchism in its various forms– and the sociological factors which gave momentum to the realization of art-for-art’s sake are to a great extent those which contributed to the formation of avant-garde ideals in the fin de siècle.  (114).

Dadaism also intended to promote rebellion against stringency through art. However, Dadaism proved to be more extreme than Avant-gardism, at least in terms of the Dadaists’ ideals.

Founded by Tristan Tzara in the mid-1910s, Dadaism rejected the effects of World War I through intentionally nonsensical and shocking art (Kristiansen 457). Yet, unlike avant-garde art, the Dadaists seemed intent on opposing the various forms of art and logic (458-62). Musicologists, such as Dona M. Kristiansen, have attempted to discover the significance of the word Dada. According to Kristiansen, the word revealed a remedial and negative attitude, which seemed appropriate for the Dadaists’ backwards way of thinking:

… The word became a symbolic representative of a movement whose ultimate goal was its own destruction, a movement which represented not a new school, but the repudiation of all schools, a movement which was not a movement at all but a protest, a state of mind, a gesture for the soul. (457).

Erik Satie (1866-1925)

With regards to French music of this time period (the late 1800’s-early 1900’s), there was one notable composer whose work seemed to parallel Avant-gardism and Dadaism: Erik Satie. In the past, music critics, such as W. Wright Roberts, did not comprehend Satie’s compositions, dismissing them as buffoonery (Roberts 313-20). While many of the French composer’s pieces would appear to confirm this at first glance, it would be more sensible to briefly examine some of his scores more objectively (particularly those for piano). This would then provide greater insight into Erik Satie’s style, influences and contributions to the two aforementioned artistic movements.

Satie’s compositional style consisted of several elements. First, the composer usually presented a comical atmosphere in his music. He would frequently leave out bar lines and supply bizarre directions for the given performer. For example, his Gnossiennes (1889-1897) contained such perplexing guidelines as  “…Trés luisant (Shining), “…Dans une grande bonté (With great kindness), and “… De manière à obtenir un

creux  ( So as to be a hole)” (Salabert 42-46).  In some cases Satie used his humor to intentionally poke fun at composers of the past. For instance, the second piece in Embryons Deséchés (literally, Dehydrated Embryos) parodied Frederic Chopin’s Funeral March: the third movement of the Sonata No. 2, Op. 35 (Glazer CD 1, Tr. 6).

Satie’s unabashed sense of humor seemed to match the ideals of Avant-gardism. Like his dear friend, Claude Debussy, Satie greatly detested the music of Richard Wagner (Gilmor 113-14). This sentiment could be exemplified musically in a piano reduction of one of Satie’s ballets: Le Fils des Etoiles (The Son of the Stars). In this score Satie wrote continuous chords containing dissonant sevenths and ninths to be played at agonizingly slow tempi (70-76). These, coupled with strange performance directions, created the effect of over-dramatic music.

Example 6: Satie, Le Fils des Etoiles (use of dissonant sevenths and ninths)

Some of Satie’s music also reflected the popular musical styles of his day. Certain pieces that he composed during the 1890’s and early 1900’s were intended for performances in French cafés. This was understandable because Satie worked at the Paris café, Le Chat Noir (The Black Cat), during this time period (Orledge 11). His waltzes, Poudre D’Or (1902) and Je Te Veux (1904) clearly demonstrated the café music style; both pieces relied on a steady tempo and clear projection of octave melodies in the right hand to compliment triadic accompaniments in the left hand (Salabert 162-66. 168-73). These pieces also probably served as fitting musical backdrop to the otherwise raucous atmosphere of the café. Satie also composed music inspired by early forms of Jazz, as did Debussy. Piano pieces such as Le Picadilly (1914) and La Diva de l’Empire (1919) successfully mimicked Ragtime music (174-75, 283-86, Körmendi, Tr. 11, 12).

Example 7a: Poudre D’Or (example of café music)

Example 7b: Je Te Veux (another example of café music)

Example 7c: Le Picadilly (influence of Ragtime music)

Example 7d: La Diva De l’Empire (another example of the influence of Ragtime music)

Another distinctive feature in some of Satie’s compositions was his sense of counterpoint. From 1905 to 1908 Satie sought formal musical training at Vincent d’Indy’s Schola Cantorum (Orledge 81-90). Unlike the Paris Consérvatoire, which focused primarily on performance and technique, the Schola Cantorum espoused the composition of music in traditional forms and styles (Pasler 245). Satie’s Prelude en Tapisserie (Prelude to a Tapestry) of 1906 presents his “Neo-Classical” side; it is a prime example of his training in counterpoint Schola Cantorum (Glazer CD 1, Tr. 3). This short piece, which appears to be in Ternary form, demonstrates the composer’s use of nontraditional harmonies in a predominantly four-voice texture (176-78). The harmonic structure consists of sevenths and perfect fifths in juxtaposition, as in measures 1-12, as well as successive dominant seventh chords from measures 42-44:

Example 8a: Prelude en Tapisserie (use of nontraditional harmonies)

Example 8b: Prelude en Tapisseri (use of dominant seventh chords)

Satie adheres to the rules of voice leading, though, because many of the voices resolve down by step or a reasonable leap (no more than an octave) (176-78). With Prelude en Tapisserie, Satie establishes a firm understanding of counterpoint.

It was easy to surmise that Satie did not adhere to one school of thought when if came to his music. (Gillmor 105). His compositions from the late 1910’s to his death in 1925 suggested an inclination towards Tristan Tzara’s Dadaist ideals. In keeping with

Tzara’s stance on art and music, the 1917 ballet Parade, for example, utilized cacophonous harmonies and interesting sound effects: whistles, typewriters, pistols, and such (Abravanel 1-3). While this music complimented Pablo Picasso’s circus backdrop of the ballet, the premiere of Parade actually infuriated some audience members and critics; they did not understand this artistic tomfoolery as World War I raged on (Templier 36-38).

Les nouneaux jeunes

Of course, Erik Satie’s music managed to attract a younger generation of composers. Although the French nationalist group Les Six gained recognition in the 1920s, their association actually began under another name: Les nouveaux jeunes. (Kelly 2). Several sources have provided conflicting dates regarding the formation of this group. Musicologist, Edwin Mullins, suggested that Les nouveaux jeunes formed in 1916 in the small studio of painter Emile Lejune on the Rue Hyughens. The cold and cramped studio was used primarily as an art gallery to display works from some of Paris’ leading artists like Picasso, Matisse, Modigliani, and Kissling. Satie sometimes provided background music for these shows (Mullins PD).

Barbara Kelly, on the other hand, described a slightly different account about the origin of Les nouneaux jeunes. Kelly revealed that the group actually met about one year later:

…On 6 June 1917 Auric, Durey and Honegger organized a tribute concert to Satie in the Salle Huyghens, studio of the painter Èmile Lejune. Satie named these composers “Les nouveaux jeunes…” Milhaud was included on Honegger’s suggestion, despite his absence in Brazil until 1919 as Paul Claudel’s secretary, and Poulenc was introduced to Satie and Auric by Ricardo Viñes. (2).

Unfortunately, Le nouveaux jeunes lasted about two years. It was evident that some members, such as composer and music critic Roland-Manuel, were influenced by different musical styles. For instance, Kelly states that, “…. Roland-Manuel would already have detected the group’s ambivalence towards Ravel. Given his (Roland- Manuel’s) closeness to his teacher, he would have been unable to tolerate Satie’s attitude towards Ravel….” (3).

The Music and Ideologies of “Les Six”– Part   2

The Rise of Les Six:

The year 1919 marked the formation of Les Six: Darius Milhaud (1892-1974), Arthur Honegger (1892-1955), Francis Poulenc (1899-1963), Georges Auric (1899-1983), Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983), and Louis Durey (1888-1979). Yet, unlike Les nouveaux jeunes, the foundation of Les Six seemed shrouded in mystery. In the past musicologists, such as Vera Rašín, have attempted to uncover reasons as to how Les Six formed and why (Rašín 164-69). One recurrent answer, supplied by Darius Milhaud, implied that the group formed by chance and because of close friendships (164). Although this reason was slightly subjective, it did bear a grain of truth. Several members of Les Six (Milhaud, Tailleferre, Honegger, and Auric), befriended each other at the Paris Consérvatoire during the early 1910’s (Shapiro 2).

Les Six, like the Avant-garde movement, formed primarily to oppose Wagnerism in French music (Kelly 10). What was perplexing was that the majority of the group also detested Claude Debussy’s music. Barbara Kelly suggested that this particular opposition was largely because Debussy had acquired a nationalist appeal after his death. (Kelly 6-7).

Information regarding Les Six’s fame seemed equally as convoluted. Several musicologists, including Rašín, have credited the music critic, Henri Collet, for discovering the group. His article in Comoedia, January 8, 1920, is often cited as evidence (Rašín 164). Current research, however, has revealed that Collet was not the first to write enthusiastically about Les Six. Kelly stated that another music critic, Paul Collaer, knew about Le Six beforehand:

…. Paul Collaer … played an important part in launching the group and contributing to the propaganda machine. He organized a concert on 19 December 1919 at the Institut des Hautes-Études in Brussels devoted to the works of Satie and Le Six…. Collaer also published an enthusiastic article entitled “Noël des musicians following the concert, in which he presented them as the audacious post-war French spirit…. (Kelly 3-4).

Another person was partially responsible for bringing the members of Les Six into the public eye. The playwright Jean Cocteau (1889-1963) had ties to Erik Satie; both worked on Parade (Templier 36). Some of Cocteau’s writings also served to bolster the group’s reputation. His work, Le Coq et l’arlequin (The Rooster and the Halequin) of 1918, served to espouse the beliefs of Le Six. It protested Wagnerism and Debussyism in music and called for a new generation of composers who utilized a distinctively French idiom in their music (40). In this respect, it was Cocteau who served as the organizerer of Le Six. Barbara Kelly has suggested that Cocteau was well aware of Henri Collet’s aristocratic status; thus, it was because of Cocteau that Collet was able to write about the members of the group (Kelly 4-5).

The Musical Influences of Les Six

Like the composers that preceded them, the majority of Le Six used the styles of other composers and popular music for inspiration. After meeting Erik Satie in 1917, some members of Le Six appeared to emulate the eccentric composer’s style. For example, Francis Poulenc’s “Valse” (1919) from Les Six’s collaborative Album des 6, mirrored Satie’s café music. One could easily locate similarities between “Valse” and Satie’s

Je te Veux (see Example 7b) (Poulenc, Eschig 8-10, Rogé Disc 1. Tr. 19). The “B” section of Poulenc’s piece used the same key (C Major) and bass line as the Satie waltz: a balance of the melody in octaves over a triadic bass line (Salabert 168-171, Eschig 9). An excerpt of the Poulenc “Valse” is shown below:

Example 9: Poulenc, “Valse” from Album des 6 (the influence of Satie’s music)

Several members of Le Six were also influenced by Jazz. Darius Milhaud and Arthur Honegger, for instance, occasionally combined traditional musical forms with the North American idiom. Such examples included Milhaud’s Le Création du monde (The Creation of the World) from 1922 and Arthur Honegger’s Concertino from 1924 (Rogers 62-63).

Of course, the compositional styles of Le Six, as a whole, were markedly different from one another. At times, some members wrote music that seemed to contradict the purpose of the group. In order to fully understand the musical dichotomies of Les Six, however, one would have to briefly discuss each of the composers’ distinctive approaches to writing music. An examination of some of their piano scores would also help to illustrate their compositional styles and other influences.

Darius Milhaud (1892-1974)

Darius Milhaud often used polytonality (the use of two or more keys played simultaneously), in his compositions. According to musicologist, Barbara Kelly, Milhaud perceived this concept, “… as the inevitable development of diatonic and chromatic tendencies…. In admitting that polytonality and atonality can produce the same effect, Milhaud revealed his preoccupation with the compositional process rather than the aural experience.” (Kelly 145) This could be demonstrated in his “Mazurka” from the Album des 6 (Eschig 7):

Example 10: Milhaud, Mazurka (1914) from Album des 6 (use of polytonality)

Milhaud’s treatment of counterpoint and exoticism (music reminiscent of another country or culture) also affected his compositional style during the 1920’s. Kelly states that the composer’s “… increasing preoccupation with linear textures and melodic writing in the late 1910s was inspired by the guiding influence of his counterpoint teacher at the Consérvatoire, André Gédalge.” (154). Milhaud’s counterpoint, however, presented nontraditional approaches and harmonies. The opening measures of “Botafogo” (Example 11a) from Saudades do Brasil (Souvnirs of Brazil), Op. 67 (1920-21), exemplify the composers’s contrapuntal skills. Measures 1 to 6 contain a three-voice texture in a tonal center of F minor. By measure 7, Milhaud introduces descending triads in the right hand that suggest F-sharp minor (Milhaud, Hinson 9):

Example 11a: Saudades do Brasil, Op. 67, No. 2—“Botafogo” (counterpoint)

The Saudades do Brasil Milhaud also provide excellent examples of Milhaud’s impression of Brazilian carnival music. The composer became enthralled by this music after hearing it firsthand while in Rio de Janeiro with Paul Claudel (3, Barbosa

13-24). As seen in the previous example, the Saudades rely on a syncopated bass rhythm in one key and flowing melodies and harmonies in another. Measures 1 to 8 of “Corcovado,” for example, suggest a tonal center of G Major. Yet, the inverted arpeggios in the soprano voice are a perfect fifth above in D Major (Milhaud, Hinson 28). This is represented in Example 11b below:

Example 11b: Saudades do Brasil, Op. 67, No. 7—“Corcovado” (bitonality) “

“Sumaré” also utilizes these keys as tonal centers. Yet, the melodies and harmonies in this piece form parallel fourths and fifths moving in descending motion (35). These open harmonies add to the exotic nature of the Saudades. The first nine measures of “Sumare” are shown in Example 9c:

Example 11c: Saudades do Brasil, Op. 67, No. 9—“Sumare” (open harmonies)

Milhaud’s exploration of Brazilian music did not end with the Saudades. His incidental music to Cocteau’s ballet, Le Boef sur le toit (The Ox on the Roof), exhibited the same feel as the miniatures for piano (Rogers 58). It was unfortunate, though, that this music, and his role in Les Six “… both helped and hindered his reputation….” (Kelly 1).

Arthur Honegger (1892-1955)

The music of Arthur Honegger, by contrast, would have appeared to represent a series of problems for Les Six. Cocteau and some fellow group members, such as Francis Poulenc, quickly criticized the Swiss composer’s musical vernacular as being reminiscent of Wagner and Debussy: composers that had been rejected by the author in Le Coq et l’arlequin (Templier 36, Mullins PD.). However, Honegger’s preference for Germanic and Impressionistic music made sense because these were the musical genres that he grew up listening to and studying (Rae 118).

Some music critics during the 1920’s, such as A.G. Browne, regarded Honegger as a composer who defied categorization when compared with the changing musical trends of the twentieth century (Brown 376). Contemporary critic Caroline Rae, on the other hand, recently dismissed this idea by suggesting that Honegger’s music carried with it traditionalist underpinnings (118). While she was mainly examining his chamber music, one could find the same elements in his small output for piano. Here is an excerpt from Honegger’s “Sarabande” from the Album des 6 (Eschig 6):

Example 12: Honegger, “Sarabande” from Album des 6 (“Neo-Classiscm”)

It would seem as if some of Arthur Honegger’s piano music contained a “Neo-Classical” quality. Pieces like the Sarabande above indicated a traditionalist approach through the composer’s adherence to counterpoint (Antonioli 23, Honegger, Eschig 6). This sense of counterpoint could also be seen in some of the Sept Pièces Breves (1919-20), such as the sixth piece (“Rythmique”) (Honegger, Eschig 6):

Example 13a: Sept Pièces Breves, No. 6 (“Rythmique”) (counterpoint)

Based on this example, one could see that Honegger frequently used dissonant intervals in his contrapuntal writing, such as minor and augmented seconds, fourths and fifths. The composer’s Germanic and Debussyian influences were also evident in some of the Sept Pièces Breves. However, this did not necessarily mean that Honegger did not experiment with other compositional devices. The same piano pieces also demonstrate some attempts at bitonality and polytonality: techniques often associated with Milhaud’s music.For example, the first piece (“Souplement”) features a jittery melody in A minor over a triadic bass line that suggests an inverted secondary dominant of B Major, as in measures 1 to 6 (3, Honegger, Eschig 1).

Example 13b: Sept Pièces Breves, No. 1 (“Souplement”) (polytonality)

The second piece on the other hand (“Vif”) seems more problematic. In measures 4 to 15, it appears that the soprano and alto voices toggle between C minor and Major. But, the rotating three-note pattern of B-flat, D-flat, and E-flat in the bass could signify two things: either an inverted dominant of A-flat Major or an extension of a C minor triad. Examples 13c illustrates the opening measures of this piece:

Example 13c: Sept Pièces Breves, No. 2 (“Vif”) (bitonality)

The fourth piece in this set (“Légérement”) provides a slightly clearer example of bitonality. In measures 1 to 8 here, the soprano voice contains an athletic melody in G Major over an expansive alberti bass in tenths in B minor (4). An excerpt of this compositional device is shown below:

Example 13d Sept Pièces Breves, No. 4 (“Légérement”)  (bitonality)

Francis Poulenc (1899-1963)

Fancis Poulenc garnered fame throughout his lifetime and established himself as a prolific composer (Mullins PD). As noted earlier, Poulenc became heavily influenced by the music of Erik Satie during the late 1910’s and early 1920’s. Yet, there were other factors that separated his music from the other members of Les Six. Several of these included his lack of formal musical training and his wide range of musical influences, including Igor Stravinsky and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Schmidt 12). These aforementioned influences were often reflected in some Poulenc’s multitude of short character pieces for piano, which will be discussed later.

The piano played a vital role in Poulenc’s musical training. His mother gave him his first piano lessons during his youth (Scmidt 1-5). During the late 1910’s, he continued his lessons under the direction of Spanish pianist, Ricaro Viñes (1875-1943). Unlike the other members of Les Six, however, Poulenc did not study composition at the Paris Consérvatoire. Instead, he desperately sought formal training from such notable composers as Dukas, Vidal, and Ravel only to be rejected (39-41). As musicologist Carl B. Schmidt stated, “…. Poulenc did not study with a bona fide composition teacher until 1921 when, on Darius Milhaud’s advice, he began five … years under Charles Koechin’s tutelage.” (41). These studies seemed to have no set schedule; their nature was more sporadic.

In this respect, some of Francis Poulenc’s piano pieces revealed a gradual transition from spontaneous writing to formal training. For instance, if one were to examine the Mouvements Perpétuels (1918), one could detect an aura of Stravinsky: sparse melodic textures, changing meter, and a reliance on harmony (Poulenc 2-8). It would seem odd to deduce this at first. However, Poulenc did meet the Russian composer in Paris that year while working on the ballet Les Biches (The Does) (123).

Example 14: Poulenc, Mouvement Perpétuel No. 3 (the influence of Stravinsky’s music)

Poulenc retained a tonal center while studying with Koechlin in the 1920s (103). Some piano pieces of this period seemed to suggest the composer’s preference for traditional music and the experimentation with new ideas. The Promenades of 1921, for example, consisted of short musical representations of transportation, such as “ A Pied” (“By Foot”), “A Cheval” (“By Horse”), and “En Chemin de Fer” (“By Train”) (Poulenc 2-3, 7-8, 18-19). The three pieces are shown below:

Example 15a: Promenade No. 1 (“A Pied”) (musical representation of walking)

Example 15b: Promenade No.3 (“A Cheval”) (horse riding)

Example 15c: Promenade No. 8 (“En Chemin de Fer) (the influence of Mozart)

Poulenc perceived the Promenades as a cyclical work in variation form (Schmidt 104). Certain pieces in the set, such as “En Chemin de Fer,” contain a Mozartian influence. Others make use of incisive dissonances, such as the successive minor ninths in the bass throughout “En Avion” (“By Plane”) (12-13).

Example 15d: Promenade No. 5 (“En Avion”) (use of dissonance)

It is unfortunate that the next three members of Les Six seemed to have suffered a lack of recognition: Georges Auric (1899-1983), Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983), and Louis Durey (1888-1979). While they all composed prolifically well into old age, relatively few of their piano pieces were published or recorded for contemporary audiences to enjoy. However, this does not mean that their works for piano should be deemed as trivial. An examination of some of the three composers’ pieces could provide insightful information.

Georges Auric (1899-1983)

Georges Auric was primarily remembered as a composer of film scores (Winter 160-62). His compositions written during his involvement with Les Six, by contrast, have received almost no attention. Auric was a music critic during the 1910’s and 20’s. In fact, he candidly displayed his disgust for Debussy’s music through his writings. Musicologist, Barbara Kelly, quoted an excerpt from Jean Cocteau’s journal, Le Coq, in which Auric described Debussyism as “‘… the worst form of vulturism.’” (Kelly 6-7).

As stated earlier, Auric composed few pieces for piano. This did not mean, however, that these works were unimportant. Auric’s Sonatine of 1922 consisted of two

elements: the composer’s inclination towards Neo-Classicism and a demonstration of friendship with Francis Poulenc.  (Auric dedicated his Sonatine to Poulenc.) According to musicologist Carl B. Scmidt, Auric and Poulenc “… were friends for nearly fifty years.” (Schmidt 21).

At first glance, parts of the Sonatine resemble Mozart’s piano music. Auric’s work stresses the use a legato touch and alberti bass, as in the second movement.

(Andante) (Auric 6-7). The first four measures of this movement clearly illustrate the influence of Mozart:

Example 16a: Auric Sonatine, “Andante” (the influence of Mozart)

However, Auric presents some twentieth-century compositional devices in the Sonatine as well. In the first movement (“Allegro), he uses open harmonies (fourths, fifths and ninths) and tonal centers to delay the primary key. For instance, the primary key of Auric’s Sonatine suggests the key of G Major. However, he begins the exposition (measures 1 to 48) in a tonal center of C Major (2-3). It is not until measure 161 of the movement (roughly halfway through the recapitulation) that it settles on G Major (5). Examples 15b and 15c show the opening measures and recapitulation of the first movement:

Example 16b: Sonatine, “Allegro” (excerpt of Exposition)

Example 16c: Sonatine, “Allegro” (excerpt of Recapitulation)

Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983)

Although Georges Auric’s musical reputation has remained obscure over the past few decades, this probably paled in comparison to the legacies of Tailleferre and Durey. Germaine Tailleferre was the only female member of Les Six. It has only been within recent years that musicologists have begun researching her life and musical output. According to Robert Shapiro, Tailleferre was a very prodigious composer. When she was a child, her father strongly disapproved of his daughter’s creative talent; later in life, Tailleferre’s husbands also frowned upon her musical career. Despite these obstacles, Tailleferre firmly established herself in the artistic atmosphere of Paris (Shapiro 1-8).

Germaine Tailleferre’s compositions contrasted sharply with the works of other members of Le Six. First, her music was predominantly tonal. Like Honegger, Tailleferre was also influenced by the supposedly taboo music of Claude Debussy. One can locate traces of this French composers’ style in the Romance from 1913 (published 1924) (Ariagno 2). Perhaps an even stronger influence in this piece was that of Maurice Ravel. This influence was logical because, for a time, she pursued composition lessons with Ravel (10-11). Here are the first few measures of the Romance:

Example 17: Tailleferre, Romance (the influece of Ravel’s music)

The piece, in ternary form, consisted of flowing arpeggios in the bass over a lyrical melody in the soprano. This piece also used a chain of broken dominant and minor seventh chords reminiscent of Ravel. In this case Romance is a combination of Impressionim and Neo-Classicism (Tailleferre 3-5).

Louis Durey (1888-1979)

Louis Durey, likewise, has remained in relative obscurity. His music has not been recorded or published often, save for his “Romance sans paroles” (Romance Without Words”) from the Album des 6 (Eschig 4-5). Even with such meager attention by musicologists to Durey’s music, one could still obtain a sense of his musical style and influences.

Here is an excerpt of Durey’s “Romance sans paroles:”

Example 18: Durey, “Romance sans paroles” from Album des 6 (the influence of Debussy Ravel’s music)

This excerpt demonstrates the influence of Debussy and Ravel. It makes sense because Durey loved Debussy’s music; consequently, Durey studied musical composition with Ravel (Wood 42-43). Yet, there were two other separated Durey from the rest of Le Six. First, Durey was more politically conscientious about French. By World War I, he was exhibited an inclination toward Communist (actually, Marxist) ideals (42). Secondly, Durey was influenced by the twelve-tone music of Arnold Schoenberg. This is not to say that the rest of Les Six did not perform Schoenberg’s pieces; his atonal music gained popularity in the group, albeit temporarily. (Kelly 10-15).             

Separate Directions

As stated previously, the formation of Les Six has been factually blurry. Perhaps the same can be said about how this French nationalist music group disbanded. Because there was no sole reason as to why the members of Les Six left, it would help to examine several instances that triggered the end of the group. It would also be beneficial to briefly discuss what the composers pursued after Les Six and whether or not the members reunited.

Les Six occasionally collaborated on musical projects, such as the Album des 6. However, there were times when the musical diversity of the composers created tension within the group. For example, Honegger’s oratorio, Le Roi David (King David), was hailed by critics but lambasted by Les Six because of the piece’s Germanic influences (Kelly 18-20). At times, some group projects seemed so asinine that some fellow members quit immediately. This was precisely what occurred when Durey refused to compose music for the nonsensical ballet, Les Mariés de la Tour Eiffel (The Marriage on the Eiffel Tower) (Wood 45).

Erik Satie’s eccentric nature could also serve as a possible reason for the end of Les Six. The members revered Satie but could not comprehend his frequent fits of rage over trivialities, such as when Auric accidentally damaged one of the composer’s many umbrellas (Mullins PD). Because of his anger and obsession with Dadaism,

Satie eventually caused a fracture within Les Six. For example Poulenc and Auric wanted to gain individual success with their Les Biches and La Facheaux. Yet, they had to leave Les Six because it appeared that Satie was holding them back (Kelly 20-22).

By the mid-1920s, Le Six had dissolved. Each composer in the group went on to pursue different musical genres. Some such as Milhaud, Poulenc, and Tailleferre continued to write prolifically; others expanded their compositional output to include music for film. Although Auric was mainly credited for his film scores, other former group members, such as Honegger, Tailleferre, and Durey, experimented with this musical genre as well (Winter 147, Wood 45). Durey moved to St. Tropez shortly after leaving Les Six; he then contributed artistically to Communism up until his death (45).

Of course, the end of Les Six did not necessarily mean that the fellow composers stopped talking to each other. The group eventually reunited in 1929 for a concert commemorating the tenth anniversary of their formation (Scmidt 174-75). Several decades later in 1962, the majority of Les Six (except for Honegger and Durey) and their closest friends participated in interviews regarding the history of the group. Although much of the information they supplied contained inconsistencies, the composers’ recollections proved that their bond of friendship was still strong, even in old age (Mullins PD). 

When Les Six formed during the late 1910’s and early 1920’s, some music critics, such as Émile Vuillermoz, shunned their music because of the group’s supposed lack of ingenuity (Kelly 9). From a contemporary perspective, this notion now seems false. The countless examples demonstrated here have shown that Les Six helped to shape the expanding artistic and musical trends of French culture during the 20th century. By learning from their country’s historical and musical mistakes, they sought to create distinctive sounds. Although some contemporaries might disagree, the composers that comprised Les Six did contribute to the expanding piano literature: not in the sense of volume, but in the degree of importance. Over time, many of their works have either fallen out of favor or have not been performed much. Regardless, the piano music of Les Six deserves more attention.

Bibliography

Auric, Georges. (1923). Sonatine pour le Piano. Paris, FR: Salabert, pp. 6-7, 2-3, 5.

Auric, Georges et al. (1920). Album des Six. Paris, FR: Eschig, pp. 8-10, 7, 6, 4-5

Debussy, Claude, and Deis, Carl (Ed.) (1940). 51 Piano Pieces from the Modern Repertoire. New York, NY: Schirmer, pp. 87-92.

Debussy, Claude (1890, 1905,1983) Suite Bergamasque. München, GR: Henle, pp.14-18.

Debussy, Claude (1910-12, 1983) Preludes: Premier livre. München, GR: Henle, pp.38, 33-37.

Debussy, Claude (1906-08, 1983). Children’s Corner Suite. München, GR: Henle, pp. 22-23, 23-24.

Honegger, Arthur. (1920). Sept Pieces Bréves (1919-20). Paris, FR: Eschig, pp. 6, 1, 2, 4.

Kelly, Barbara L. (2003). Tradition and Style in the Works of Darius Milhaud: 1912-1939. Cornwall, UK: Ashgate, pp. 6, 2, 3-4, 1, 145, 154, 6-7, 18-20, 9.

Milhaud, Darius, Hinson, Maurice (Ed.) (1920-21, 2003). Saudades do Brasil, Op. 67. Van Nuys, CA: Alfred, pp. 9, 28, 35.

Orledge, Robert. (1990). Satie the Composer. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, pp. 11, 81-90.

Poulenc, Francis. (1919, 1990). Mouvements Perpétuels for Piano London, UK. Chester, pp. 2-8

Poulenc, Francis (1923, 1951, 1980.). Promenades for Piano. London, UK: Chester, pp. 2-3, 7-8, 18-19, 12-13.

Satie, Erik. (1957-66, 1999). Intégrale des Oeuvres pour Piano. Paris, FR: Salabert, pp. 42-46 , 70-76, 162-166, 168-173, 174-75, 283-86, 176-78)

Shapiro, Robert. (1994). Germaine Tailleferre: A Bio-Bibliography. Westport, CT: Greenwood, pp. 2-8

Scmidt, B. Carl. (2001). Entrancing Muse: A Documented Biography of Francis Poulenc. New York, NY: Pendragon, pp. 1-5, 41, 123, 103, 104, 21.

Tailleferre, Germaine (1924). Romance pour Piano. Paris,France: Eschig, pp.  3-5.

Taylor, Ronald. (1979). Richard Wagner: His Life, Art and Thought. New York, NY: Taplinger, pp. 62, 256.

Templier, Pierre Daniel, French, Elena L. and David S. (Transl.). (1969). Erik Satie. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 36-38

Wagner, Richard and Osborne, Charles (Ed.). 1973. Richard Wagner: Stories and Essays. Illinois: Open Court, pp. 11-13, 2

Discography

Abravanel, Maurice et al. (1974). The Complete Ballets of Erik Satie. Tr. 1-3.

Antonioli, Jean- François et al. (2008). Honegger: L’oeuvre pour piano. Timpani. 1C1138. Tr. 23, 3, 4,

Ariagno,Cristina et al. (2008). Tailleferre: Piano Works. Brilliant Classics, Foreign Media Group. (iTunes) Tr. 2.

Barbosa, Antonio. (1992). Debussy: Preludes, Book 2, Mlhaud: Saudades do Brasil. Connoiseur Society. CD 4190. Tr. 13-24.

Crossley, Paul. (1993). Debussy: Complete Works for Solo Piano, Vol. 1. Sony Classical. SK 52583. Tr. 10, 9

Crossley, Paul. (1993). Debussy: Complete Works for Solo Piano, Vol. 2. Sony Classical. SK 53111. Tr. 21

Glazer, Frank (1990). Satie: Complete Piano Music (Discs 1 and 2). NJ: Vox Box. CD. 1, Tr. 6, 3.

Körmendi, Klara et al. (1989-99, 2000.). The Best of Erik Satie. New Jersey: Naxos, (iTunes). Tr. 11, 12.

Rogé, Pascal. (1987). Poulenc: Piano Works Vol. 1.New York, NY: Decca. (iTunes). Tr. 16-18, 19

Videography

Mullins, Edwin et al. (1962,1993). Montparnasse Revisited: The Composers. Public Domain: Home Vision. MON 300.

Webography

Abbate, Carolyn. (1981). “Tristan” in the Composition of “Pelléas.” 19th-Century Music Vol. 5 (No. 2), pp. 117-141. Retrieved September 23, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/746402

Browne, A. G. (1929) A Study of Arthur Honegger. Music & Letters. Vol.  10 (No. 4), pp. 372-77. Retrieved September 26, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/726129

Gillmor, Alan M. (1983). Erik Satie and the Concept of the Avant-Garde. The Musical Quarterly. Vol. 69 (No. 1), pp.104-19. Retrieved September 2, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/741803 .

Rae, Caroline. (1992). Honegger: a centenary reappraisal. The Musical Times. Vol. 133 (No.1789), pp. 118-21. Retrieved September 26, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/966422

Rašín, Vera. (1957). “Le Six” and Jean Cocteau. Music & Letters. Vol. 38 (No. 2), pp.164-69. Retrieved September 8, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/729312

Roberts, W. Wright. (1923). The Problem of Satie. Music & Letters. Vol. 4 (No. 4), pp. 313-20. Retrieved September 23,2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/726278.

Rogers, M. Robert. (1935). Jazz Influence on French Music. The Musical Quarterly. Vol. 21 (No. 1), pp. 53-68. Retrieved September 21, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/738965

Winter, Marian Hanah. (1941). The Function of Music in Sound Film. The Musical Quarterly. Vol. 27 (No. 2), pp. 146-164. Retrieved September 8, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/739462

Wood, Marc. (2000). Louis Durey: Homme de tête. The Musical Times. Vol. 141 (No.1873), 42-6 Retrieved September 30, 2010 from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1004733