French-Romanian composer Marius Constant (d. 2004) is best known in this country for his theme music to The Twilight Zone. This probably gave him a higher profile than he ever enjoyed in France. He is also noteworthy as a conductor, an excellent one, whose recordings for Erato of contemporary French music, Messiaen especially, remain reference versions to this day. He was not a member of the Pierre Boulez mafia, and so like his colleague Dutilleux he was neglected–relatively speaking–for much of his career. Now that the stifling effect of Boulez and his cronies seems to be passing, it may finally be possible to gain a fair assessment of French music over the course of the 20th century. If that happens, Constant’s achievement will surely rank high.
Like Dutilleux, whose music his output sometimes resembles, Constant subscribed to no system. He is not terribly tonal, but it doesn’t much matter. His textures and harmonies are often beautiful, mysterious, and atmospheric. He is a “chord guy”, meaning that his music is best listened to moment by moment, for its ever-changing density and its degrees of light and shade. Thus, his Violin Concerto “103 Regards dan l’eau” (“103 Visions of Water”), really does consist of 103 tiny sketches, but grouped into four movements. It is wonderfully written for the soloist given the inherently songful nature of the violin and the initial, seemingly fragmentary premise; and for all that you might think otherwise it holds together very impressively.
Brevissima is a 10-minute-long pocket symphony, a single sonata-style movement articulated in four short sections and culminating in a passacaglia finale, but Constant handles his counterpoint subtly, using it to achieve a fulfilling climax. Turner is an aptly colorful and evocative tone poem based on the English master’s paintings. There are three movements: “Rain, Steam, and Speed”, “Self-Portrait”, and ” Windsor”. All of this music repays repeated listening–it may sound elusive at the start, but as soon as you penetrate its sound world you will begin to enjoy its masterful exploitation of the orchestra as well as its expressive range. It isn’t “easy” in the sense that it never uses traditional melodic signposts, but it’s not at all difficult to follow, and Constant never indulges in pointless complexity for its own sake.
The performances here are excellent. Both Turner and the Violin Concerto have been recorded previously, but don’t bother trying to find those earlier versions. The Riverside Symphony is a Manhattan freelance orchestra of professional calibre, capable of doing superb work under music director George Rothman. They certainly do here. Rothman conducts with loving attention to details of balance and rhythm, while soloist Olivier Charlier is, as we know, an artist of international repute. What a difference this enterprising, self-produced release represents as compared to the heaps of worthless new versions of repertory warhorses coming from allegedly “major” orchestras on their own proprietary labels (think: overpriced Schumann symphonies from Rattle and Berlin).
In other words, this release deserves your support and, more to the point, will reward your time and attention. The sonically excellent CD also contains a video about Constant, which I have not viewed on the principle that if the music does not speak on its own terms, it’s not worth the effort. If I can tear myself away from this marvelous music, maybe I’ll watch the video someday soon.
