Tonight I am returning from a dancing party, graced by the gracefulness of women, among whom my beloved wife.
She has just dozed off, and it occurred to me that in the piano universe, men, as always, have jostled and pushed women aside. Who instead, with throbbing love, generous songs, and enthusiastic dreams, were, I am certain, the muses and protagonists of this art.
But then, why don't we talk about them? Why don't we venerate them?
One of these women, who also possessed unusual beauty, was Cécile Louise Stéphanie Chaminade, a French composer and great pianist (Paris, 1857 - Monte Carlo, 1944).
At a very young age, she revealed a musical talent that her family helped to develop. At just 8 years old, she composed her first work of sacred music, and Georges Bizet was so impressed by her talent that he advised her family to have her study music. Unfortunately, the Conservatories admitted neither Americans nor women, and Cécile had to study privately.
Benjamin Godard, her composition teacher, Camille Saint-Saëns, and Emmanuel Chabrier encouraged her to continue.
Cécile alternated composition with study, and at 18 she debuted as a concert artist and traveled the world, appreciated in both roles especially at home, in England and the United States.
Among her works, the delightful ballet Callirhoe and the Concertstück pour piano et orchestre. Furthermore, many of you will know the renowned Concertino pour flûte et orchestre en ré majeur, which was her last symphonic work and is often played in the reduction for flute and piano. Also delightful are some of the approximately 150 salon music melodies, a genre in which they excelled, Chopin, the aforementioned Godard, Liszt, Massenet, Moscheles, Thalberg and my beloved Gottschalk.
Her piano production is noteworthy; over 200 short pieces in the Romantic style, among which I propose to you today Les Sylvains.
Following a poignant first part, tinged with an almost weeping sadness, comes what seems to me the carefree picture of children chasing a kite, shouting festively and jumping joyfully; what strikes me most is the finale, in which the two veins, melancholy and festive, merge and intertwine in an embrace that appears loving.
In much of Cécile's Romantic work, we do not find powerful thought or daring architecture, but rather a search for forms pleasing to an audience being formed in classical music. The result was that Cécile was almost ignored by "learned musicians," who often prefer to pick flowers where they are easiest to reach; but I believe instead—as I believe it is sensed—that her music is a vase full of precious gems. Especially because with her genius, she knew how to write even for "normal" pianists, to capture them in droves in the nets of tenderness.
And now, listen a little ...............
