Talking about music, I think (evidently!), is fascinating and enlightening, and can fuel our curiosity to discover more of it’s secrets. However, as the value of music lies in it’s distinct power to transcend the definitive nature of speech, it cannot be fully understood without experiencing it. It can be touched upon, alluded to, analysed and marveled at, but talking about a Beethoven Sonata is never going to beat listening to it. I think that the same principle applies to matters of spirituality and of faith. So, at a slight loss for adequate words, I would like to hand over the responsibility to Messiaen himself to introduce what was at the core of his inspiration, in music and in life.
”A true music, that it to say, spiritual, a music which may be an act of faith; a music which may touch upon all subjects without ceasing to touch upon God; an original music, in short, whose language may open a few doors, take down some yet distant stars.” - Olivier Messiaen
Messiaen‘s objectives for his own composition were high. He had a strong desire to share something of the intangible and yet ever-constant presence of God through his writing. As such, his music seems to reflect something incomprehensible yet inviting, powerful whilst being highly personal, vast and unfamiliar but strangely beautiful.
The work I’d like to discuss today is one which has been the subject of musicologists since it was written in 1941, as it was written in a very unique and striking context.
Messiaen’s Quatuor pour la fin du temps (Quartet for the End of Time) was written during his confinement in a of war camp in Görlitz, Germany in the Second World War. He was imprisoned there with 50,000 others from Belgium and France, and the conditions were inhumane. Despite having the rest of his possessions forcibly taken from him, he managed to keep hold of a small bag of scores.
In a surprising gesture of solicitude, one of the guards at the camp supplied Messiaen with manuscript paper and so Messiaen managed to continue composing during his confinement.
Among his fellow prisoners were violinist Jean Le Boulaire, Cellist Êtienne Pasquier and Clarinettist Henry Akoka and so Messiaen scored his Quartet for their respective instruments (and for himself at the piano).
The Quartet takes the form of a profound eight-movement meditation on the Biblical Book of Revelation.
Perhaps the most extraordinary fact is that the Quartet was premiered in the camp for an audience of around 400 people- prisoners and camp guards listening together. Reports of the performance claim that the atmosphere was one of incredibly intense listening and something completely unique.
I think that it is remarkable that in the midst of such suffering, Messiaen was able to focus his energy into creating at all, never mind writing something that expressed beauty and awe to the greatest of his human capacity.
A little personal anecdote on this piece...
During one of the Covid lockdowns, I listened to this piece for the first time. It was being played at Wigmore Hall by the Kaleidoscope Chamber Collective and was livestreamed. I listened on my own and found it to be extremely moving. It sounded completely other-worldy- expansive, dissonant and dramatic at times, and at others highly intimate and exquisitely beautiful.
Eager to discuss the diamond I'd found with someone else, I convinced my Dad (who does enjoy Classical music but was not exactly well-acquainted with Messiaen's music at the time) to listen with me. For him, knowing the story behind the work unlocked a completely new way of listening, as we both tried to imagine how it must have been for that very first audience.
Music can, and does, speak for itself. Messiaen's music in particular has the capacity to reach and move people despite it's complexity and apparent dissonance. Whenever I have played Messiaen in a concert setting, it is always the piece that people want to discuss afterwards.
That said, this experience of listening with my Dad confirmed something for me.
As musicians we can greatly increase the value of the listening experience of the audience by sharing something meaningful about the works being performed with them.
This is obviously not necessary or desirable for every single piece, however I do think that taking two minutes to thoughtfully introduce a piece can really make a significant difference to the way that the audience connects to the playing.
Before I conclude, I just wanted to mention two of my favourite movements which you might like to listen to.
The first is the fifth movement of the work- Louange à l'Éternité de Jésus (Praise to the Eternity of Jesus) , in which only the piano and the cello play. The opening instructions to the cellist are "infinitely slow, ecstatic.'" This definitely falls into the intimately beautiful category of movements in this piece.
It is played beautifully here by the Manchester Collective (Guy Johnston, cello and Simon Parkin, piano).
The second piece I'd like to mention is the third movement of the Quartet, the Abîme des Oiseaux (Abyss of the Birds). This is scored exclusively for the clarinet. It is an extraordinary movement which seems to combine a solitude and an inexorability scattered with moments of birdsong. If you read the post on Messiaen's love of birdsong then this will be no surprise to you. Especially in this movement, we can hear that birds had a hugely significant symbolic meaning for Messiaen.
Here is what Messiaen said about his Abîme des oiseaux.
"The abyss is Time with its sadness, its weariness. The birds are the opposite to Time; they are our desire for light, for stars, for rainbows, and for jubilant songs."
Here is a gorgeous recording of the piece being played by clarinettist Julien Hervé in Rotterdam's Laurenskerk. Listen out at 2:32 for the astonishingly long note which gradually crescendos from a barely audible ppp to a brass-like fff.
I thought I'd leave you with a quote from Messiaen which I think helps us to get a glimpse into his world and his purpose.
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